


Until the Stars Are All Alight

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Inspired by The Lord of the Rings, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 61,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20413834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: Summary: CS LOTR au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine.  Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic.  Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2019! This au combines two story ideas I’ve wanted to explore for a while. 1. What if CS existed in a Tolkien-esque, LOTR world? 2. What would have happened if it was Killian rather than Neal that Emma ran into when she was stealing the bug? Huge thank you to my beta, @blackwidownat2814, to @clockadile for the amazing story and chapter art, to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event together, and to the ladies in the CSSNS chat who have helped me think through this story. If all goes well, I should be posting every Tuesday, and the story will have approximately 18 chapters plus the prologue and epilogue.

**Prologue**

King Charming of Misthaven sat gingerly upon his bed, careful not to jostle his family. His wife, Queen Snow White held their daughter, scarcely a half an hour old. Slipping an arm around Snow’s shoulders, Charming bent down and then placed a gentle kiss against the baby’s downy head.

“Snow, she’s beautiful,” he said in awe, running a finger softly across the baby’s wisps of blonde hair, taking in all the features of this face, so new to him and yet already loved beyond anything he could imagine.

“We did this, Charming,” she smiled up at him, tears in her eyes. “It was our love that brought her into being. In this world full of magic, sorcerers and elves, dwarves and dragons, I’ve never experienced anything this miraculous.”

Charming felt the tears well in his eyes and let them fall as he leaned down and kissed his wife.

How could he possibly do this? How could he give them up? It was asking too much. He was but a man, after all. He didn’t have the strength of his wife’s elven people. How could he put them through a portal?

Snow reached up with her free hand and caressed his face, smoothing away his tears with a gentle thumb. “I know what troubles you, and I don’t pretend I don’t share your concerns. Twenty-eight years without you...it will be an agony. How can we survive this?”

Charming felt his heart breaking, but he knew he must be strong--for his wife, for his daughter, for the entire kingdom that was looking to their royals to provide them guidance through these turbulent times.

And so he took a deep, ragged breath in and let it out. Pasting a smile he didn’t feel upon his face, he leaned down and kissed Snow once more. “What’s twenty-eight years, when we have eternal love?”

Snow tried to smile, but Charming saw the storm clouds brewing in her eyes. “Will it always be like this? Constant struggle against the evil forces that want to tear us all apart? Charming, we finally defeated the Dark One, managed to trap him in his castle, and yet he’s still able to destroy our lives; he still manages to gain followers. What hope does good have against the malice of such evil?”

Charming gestured out their bedchamber window. “Look at the sky, my love,” he said. “The night has fallen and at first glance, the darkness looks absolute, but if you look closer, the darkness doesn’t reign supreme. Thousands of stars shine through, providing their light, guiding the lost and weary. When we fight against the darkness, we are like those stars--hope, light, promise of a new dawn. And so we’ll keep fighting until the stars are all alight.”

Snow smiled up at him through her tears. “You’re right. We fight, and we have to hope that one day good will defeat the darkness.”

“And our tiny savior will be the one to strike the death blow, if the prophecies are to be believed,” Charming noted.

“She’ll be the best of us all, our tiny Emma.”

Snow yawned, and Charming took their daughter, placing her gently in her cradle, urging his exhausted wife to take her rest, before he laid beside her, holding her close and relishing the peace of the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

But peace was not destined to last until morning. As dawn’s first rays began to paint the sky with pale pastels, Charming woke suddenly, aware of the clanging of the alarm bell, the shouts and sounds of running below, the distant shout of the dwarf, Grumpy.

“The curse! It’s here!”

_No! It couldn’t be! It was too early; they weren’t ready!_

Careful not to wake his sleeping wife and child, Charming sprang from the bed, threw on his clothes from the day before and left his chamber, sprinting for the great hall.

The council was already assembled at their round table--elves, dwarves, men, fairies, the werewolves Granny and Ruby, and there at the place of honor, was the wizard Merlin.

The sight of the wizard made a chill run down Charming’s spine. Merlin had assured him he would be away until the time of crisis was upon them.

“What news from the village?” Charming asked by way of greeting. “Surely the shouts I’m hearing cannot be true.”

“I’m afraid they are,” Merlin said gravely. “The curse has been enacted. We have scarcely an hour to prepare ourselves.”

“No,” Charming insisted, “It’s too soon. Our intelligence was clear we had several weeks yet before the Dark One would have the strength to enact his plan.”

“Our intelligence was wrong,” Graham, commander of the king’s guards, stated angrily. “It’s coming; the cloud of the Dark One’s malice is already visible in the east. We must enact our plan now.”

“But we can’t,” Charming insisted. “Snow gave birth only hours ago. She’s far too weak to travel realms. We must hold it off. Surely our shield will hold--”

“The shield has already been breached,” Granny said starkly. “I’m afraid we have no choice. We must act now.”

“But--”

Merlin stood, commanding attention with his quiet strength. “I’m afraid the situation is far graver than even you know, Your Majesty. With only a portion of the sword at our disposal, the portal is weaker than we accounted for. It can only support one.”

“One?!” Charming shouted, getting to his feet. “But my wife and daughter must both go through!”

Merlin shook his head. “Impossible. Without the rest of the sword, we cannot strengthen the portal enough. The child must be sent through on her own.”

Charming banged his fist upon the table. “No!” he shouted. “I will not send my newborn daughter through a portal to a foreign realm where she will be defenseless. I cannot!”

“If you do not,” Merlin said, voice still calm and impassive, “then all is lost. Misthaven will fall, the Dark One will regain power, and his reign of terror will consume the world.”

Charming remained resolute for a moment, before the fight drained out of him, and he fell back to his chair. “But without her mother to guide her, how is she to survive? How is she to keep the dagger secret and safe? How is she to know of her destiny? How is she to return to us when the time is right?”

Silence reigned in the great hall for a moment, the gravity of the situation evident on every grim face. Finally Graham got to his feet.

“We must rely on those outside of the curse’s purview to do what they must to guide her towards her destiny. We must trust our fate once again to them.”

True smiles graced a few faces as the realization set in. There was yet someone who could get to her when the time was right, someone who would move heaven and earth to protect his home and his people, someone whose righteous anger toward the Dark One was strong enough to stand the test of years, decades, realms. 

Grave though the situation may be; all was not yet lost.

Charming called for parchment and ink, hastily scribbling a note before folding it and embossing it with the seal of Misthaven, then, whistling for one of Snow’s birds, he tied the missive to it’s leg.

“You must be quick,” Charming said. “Take this message to Killian Jones.”


	2. But in Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2019! This au combines two story ideas I’ve wanted to explore for a while. 1. What if CS existed in a Tolkien-esque, LOTR world? 2. What would have happened if it was Killian rather than Neal that Emma ran into when she was stealing the bug? Huge thank you to my beta, @blackwidownat2814, to @clockadile for the amazing story and chapter art, to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event together, and to the ladies in the CSSNS chat who have helped me think through this story. If all goes well, I should be posting every Tuesday, and the story will have approximately 18 chapters plus the prologue and epilogue.

The world is changing. I feel it in the wind. I sense it in the trees. Much that once was is now gone. Much that was thought to be lost forever will soon return. A seismic shift will soon come upon Misthaven and indeed the whole of the Enchanted Forest, and it all comes because of the birth of a little girl.

It began centuries, ions ago, before the world as we know it was formed. Before anything else, was the struggle between light and darkness, two great powers fighting, grasping for dominance, clasped seemingly forever in their deathless contest. Finally, growing tired of their feud, Zeus bound them together in the form of a chalice, the Holy Grail by name, said to be accessible only to the worthy, only truly able to be possessed by the strongest of champions, the purest of heart, the most stalwart in courage. Only one who could possess the chalice without letting it possess them could wield it.

Many tried to obtain the Grail, for it promised power, prestige and, most elusive of all, eternal life, but one by one they failed. One by one they disappeared in a puff of smoke as soon as their unworthy hands touched upon the metal of the chalice. And so it was that questing for the Grail fell out of favor. The chalice became nothing but a legend, a tale to tell around the fire at night.

It was wreathed in shadows and mystery until the day that I came to take possession of it. Held as a slave far beyond the eastern borders of the Enchanted Forest, I finally broke free, only to find myself trapped in the desert. Dying of thirst, I believed my tale would soon draw to a close, a miserable death the culmination of an equally miserable life. 

Then it was that I saw it shining in the light of the harsh noonday sun--the grail itself sitting upon a pedestal in the midst of the desert. I approached fearfully, for I’d heard the legend of the mighty and terrible Grail, but I had little left to lose. Within hours I would be no more, a casualty of the desperate desert heat. And so I took the cup, prepared for my end to come.

But I was blessed with a miracle. I took hold of the chalice, cool to the touch despite the punishing sun above. Before my eyes, the chalice filled with crisp, clean water, and I drank, greedily lapping at every drop, feeling my withering strength renewed, refreshed and given purpose.

For the Grail had granted me a boon I’d never thought to request. Having sipped from the cup, I became immortal, powerful, a wizard among men.

But power can be a lonely business and immortality soon lost its allure, as one by one my friends and companions succumbed to age and illness. What is the use of an everlasting life if one must live it alone?

It was only, however, when I fell in love that my burden became more than I could bear. Nimue was beautiful, vivacious, passionate, everything that I could have hoped for in a companion. Convinced my happiness lay in stripping myself of my curse, I built a fire, took the Grail, and forged it into the great sword Excalibur, intending to use it to cleave myself from my immortality, to allow myself to live a singular life with the woman I loved.

But I was greatly deceived, for the darkness will not go gently from this world.

My own dear Nimue, hearing the whispers of the darkness within the sword took it upon herself and before my eyes transformed into the Dark One, wielder of all darkness and power.

Nimue looked forward to an immortal life of destruction and chaos, but the Darkness holds an allegiance to no human being. It’s allegiance is to power and power alone. When it sensed Nimue’s lust for power had fully been quenched, it betrayed her, whispering its lies, its malice, its empty promises into the most promising desperate soul it could find.

And so it was, fueled with avarice and thirst for power, the newest desperate soul stole Excalibur from Nimue and plunged it into her heart, taking the power upon himself.

So it went for centuries. The Darkness passed from one person to the next, it’s power growing with each successive owner, never fully satisfied until it was finally possessed by a simple, cowardly spinner, tired of humiliation, tired of looking weak in the eyes of his young son.

Rumplestiltskin quickly became the greatest and most terrible Dark One of them all. The nations of the Enchanted Forest trembled before him, and the Darkness smiled. Here finally was the host it had been waiting for.

Finally, _finally _in possession of power the likes of which he’d never dreamed, Rumplestiltskin began his reign of terror, his son Baelfire, his faithful vassal, at his side. Kingdom after kingdom fell before him, and some, like Camelot, ruled by the power-hungry Arthur, came willingly. Others, like Arendelle, were conquered thanks to a coup from within. Still others, like the Land Without Color, watched neighboring kingdoms fall in bloody battle and gave up virtually without a fight. Some lands, Neverland chief among them, went so far as to offer their allegiance to the new Dark One before he sought it.

A few lands held out hope, fighting Rumplestiltskin and his ever expanding army of allies, but one by one they fell, unable to withstand the brutal, crushing blow Rumplestiltskin dealt them.

Only one land, the land of Misthaven, succeeded in pushing back the Dark One’s advances. Home to a race of wood elves, Misthaven was a place of peace, a sanctuary filled with the promise of eternal springtime. Trees in flower, brookes of crisp, clean water, elves at peace with each other and with their neighbors. One was more likely to hear gentle, lyrical singing on the wind than anything resembling an argument, for elves love to sing, and are known for composing the most epic of ballads.

But though their natural inclination is to peace, elves are fierce warriors, more than capable of defending themselves and those weaker than themselves. Knowing the entire realm faced ruin and collapse should the Dark One conquer Misthaven, thus making his conquest complete, King Leopold of the Elfen realm took up arms with his fiercest of fighters and took the battle to the Dark One.

The battle was long and fierce; more than once things appearing hopeless, but elves are tenacious when fighting for a righteous cause, and King Leopold was willing to fight to the last man if need be to defeat his enemy.

But a fight to the death was not necessary. The battle turned when King Leopold himself fought his way into the Dark One’s dark castle and took Excalibur for his own.

No longer in control of the source of his power, Rumplestiltskin was quickly defeated, and was subsequently locked within his own dungeon, his son Baelfire his one companion.

Now in possession of the Sword of Power, King Leopold could have defeated the Darkness forever. It would have been a simple matter of throwing the sword into the fires of the Underworld, but faced with the prospect of the loss of the one weapon that could defend his people from any invader, King Leopold balked at the crucial moment. Instead of destroying Excalibur once and for all, he took it back to his kingdom, hiding it deep within his own vaults.

And so the Darkness bided its time, slowly waiting for its minions, for so it was the Darkness thought of the people who did its bidding, to lick their wounds, gather their strength and come back stronger than ever.

Misthaven continued to grow and prosper, but always there was the threat of the Darkness, defeated but not eradicated, hanging over their heads.

King Leopold wed his true love, Princess Eva of the eastern lands, and a year later their only child, a lovely young daughter whom they named Snow White, was born to them.

There was much rejoicing throughout Misthaven when it became known that an heiress had been born. The entire elfen kingdom sang with one voice to the newborn princess.

_Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear!_

_O Queen beyond the Western Seas!_

_O light to us that wander here_

_Amid the world of woven trees!_

_Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!_

_Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!_

_Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee_

_In a far land beyond the sea._

_O Stars that in the Sunless Year_

_With shining hand by her were sown,_

_In windy fields now bright and clear_

_We see you silver blossom blown!_

_O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!_

_We still remember, we who dwell_

_In this far land beneath the trees,_

_Thy starlight on the Western Seas. _

Little did the elves of Misthaven know, however, that this newborn babe, this Snow White, would prove to be more important than even they could imagine, for she was destined to give birth to the Savior, the one person in all the realms who could one day defeat the darkness and destroy it forever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, Present day_

~*~*~

_A gentle breeze blew through the courtyard, setting the leaves of the trees to dancing. All around, elves smiled, congratulating their monarchs on their newborn child. Laughter and singing filled the hall beyond, where the newborn baby lay quietly in her bassinet, taking in the sights and sounds around her._

_Peace. The whole world was at peace._

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Emma Swan groaned, turning over to slap the snooze button on her alarm clock. The alarm clock she currently wanted to throw across the room until it hit the far wall and broke into a million pieces.

Settling back on her pillow, she closed her eyes, trying futilely to recapture the feeling of the dream. She’d been having these weird dreams about elves and wizards and a land of springtime and flowers and trees in full bloom all her life. She rarely remembered the details of what happened in the dreams, but the feelings, the feelings she could never forget.

When she was having the dreams she felt loved, she felt secure, she felt like she _mattered._

Emma set her mouth in a hard line. Yeah, what use were dreams? Her life was no fairy tale, never had been. She’d been found alone on the doorstep of a diner when she was no more than a few hours old, the baby blanket bearing the name “Emma” her only possession in the world.

She’d gone into the system then, “parents” seeing her as nothing but a meal ticket, a meal ticket they’d only do the bare minimum for.

Emma learned early on not to get attached to any of her “families”, because no one wanted her, not really. They’d get tired of her or they’d have a baby of their own, and then it was right back to the group homes for Emma. Through it all, Emma learned to be tough, to build a wall to protect her heart. Look out for yourself and then no one can hurt you.

By the time she was sixteen, she broke from her group home for the last time and never looked back. She was done. Done being at someone else’s beck and call. Done having to pack up her one little box and move on to who knows where, where she’d have to start all over again. Done dealing with the petty jealousy and backstabbing of the other kids in the group home.

She was better off on her own; always had been, always would be.

The next four years hadn’t been easy on Emma. She’d moved from place to place, stealing what she needed to survive, never staying in one place long enough for people to remember her face. Finally, just last month, she’d landed a job at a little diner--ironically enough, the same diner on the outskirts of Portland, where she’d been left. It was a dead end job; didn’t pay well, was boring, backbreaking work, but at least it put a little money in her pocket. At least it meant she could feed herself without begging or stealing.

She’d even managed to save enough for a couple months rent at the crappy apartment she currently called home. She had no idea how long she’d be able to stay; the rent was due, and she was short. Again. Her landlord wasn’t going to be patient forever.

Emma took a deep breath and got up, running a hand through the tangle of her long, blonde hair. Letting out the breath slowly, she resolutely put her stressful concerns aside. They’d keep until tomorrow. 

Today, she’d celebrate. 

Stepping out of her bed and padding across the room’s rough, dingy carpeting, she pulled a small box from the counter where she’d set it the night before. Pulling a single decorated cupcake from the box, she set it on her kitchen counter and placed a candle in the center of it.

Today was her twentieth birthday, and she was bound and determined to mark the occasion with as much joy as she could. Lighting the candle, she closed her eyes tight, for once letting whimsy overtake jadedness.

_I wish I didn’t have to be alone, _she murmured to herself as she blew out the flame and opened her eyes.

~*~*~*~

Realms away, in Sherwood Forest of the Enchanted Forest, Killian Jones felt his heart clench as he watched the scene play out in the Mirror of Merlin. The surface rippled as the image slowly faded away until he was looking at nothing but the bottom of the stone basin filled with pure, crystal clear water.

He’d checked in on Emma from time to time ever since he received the missive from King Charming nearly twenty years ago. He’d watched as she struggled, watched as she was rejected, watched as she resiliently did what she needed to survive.

His heart had hurt as he’d seen her, a tiny girl with hope in her heart slowly lose that hope as the hardness of the Land Without Magic stripped it away from her.

Killian had wanted to leave, to go to her from the first, from the moment he’d received the request from his king, but Liam had talked him out of it.

“We must be smart about this, Little Brother,” Liam had cautioned. “Using the sword to create the portal is a risky business.”

Killian had rounded on his brother. “Riskier than sitting on our arses and doing _nothing_ while an innocent babe struggles just to survive in a cold, cruel world?”

Liam sighed, putting a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Killian, you have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known, but the danger we face--the danger the entire realm faces is bigger than both of us. We cannot afford to show our hand before we’re ready.”

“Before we’re ready?” Killian exploded. “I’m ready now. This minute!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Liam took in a long breath and let it out. “As not only your older brother, but also your commanding officer, I am going to have to insist you follow orders. Why are we here, in the Shire of Sherwood Forest?”

Killian continued to scowl for a moment, looking defiantly up at his brother, but finally took a small, deferential step back. “We’re here because the Shire is forgotten. The Dark One and his minions wouldn’t think to look for us or the sword here, making it the perfect location to secret it away.”

Liam nodded with a smile. “Very good. And what will happen if we use the sword to create a portal?”

Killian’s scowl deepened. “If we use the sword, its magic will be detectable, giving up both our location and our tactical advantage.”

“Precisely.”

“But our caution can only extend so far, Liam. You know that,” Killian said passionately. “One day I _must _travel to the Land Without Magic to help the Savior fulfill her destiny. One day I _must_ use the sword.”

“Aye,” Liam said, “but we must pick the most opportune moment. You know full well the prophecy states she will not fulfill her destiny until she reaches her twenty-eighth year. We must wait until that time is near, lest we tip our enemies off to our plans.”

Killan saw the wisdom in his brother’s counsel, he did, but with every peak through the mirror, it became progressively more difficult to leave the lass to her fate. She deserved so much more. She deserved the world. She deserved to know there was an entire realm of people who loved her and believed in her--even if most of them had been cursed to forget it.

_I wish I didn’t have to be alone._

He’d heard not only the pain, but the indomitable hope in her voice as he’d watched her celebrate her lonely birthday, and suddenly something snapped in him.

He wouldn’t--couldn’t--wait a second longer. It was time someone showed Emma Swan she mattered. It was time someone show her just how special, how bloody brilliant she was.

And he was just the elf to do it.

Edging past Little John as he was distracted by an argument with Will bloody Scarlet, Killian slipped into his brother’s tent, eased open the chest, and pulled out the blunted sword. Scribbling out a quick note to let his brother know what he’d done, he slipped out the back, quickly putting distance between himself and the Shire. He’d make sure he was well away before he opened the portal; he had no intention of putting his brother or their hosts in harm’s way, after all.

But open the portal he would, and not a single force in this world or any other would stop him. It was time Emma Swan learn that she was _not_ alone, and that she never need be again.

_Notes:_

_\--The song the elves sing at the end of the “past” section of this chapter was taken directly from the first book of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, so I can’t take credit for it, but how perfect does it fit this story as well?!_

_\--Note on the story’s POVs: The first section of this chapter is the only part of the story that will be in first person. It’s meant to mimic the beginning of the first LOTR movie._

_\--Note on the timeline: The “present” section is supposed to take place around the time Emma meets Neal in canon, however, as to avoid any kind of squickiness, I aged Emma a few years so she’s an adult when she and Killian meet._

_\--Up next: In the past section (approximately 21-25 years ago), Snow and Charming meet and fall in love. We find out what happens when an elf (Snow) meets a human (Charming) who finds himself in a very precarious position. In the present section, Emma and Killian meet when Emma tries to steal Killian’s yellow bug._


	3. Five to the Race of Men

Chapter 2: Five to the Race of Men

The Dark One amassed many allies during his rise to power, but none so formidable as Cora, the Queen of Hearts, for she had a unique talent. She had the ability to reach into a person's chest and rip out their still beating heart, all without killing them. When one controls a heart, one controls the person, taking away their free will and making them little more than wraiths, mere shadows of themselves, capable only of carrying out the orders of the one in control.

Cora spent many years creating soldiers for Rumplestiltskin, but these soldiers had a flaw: too much of their old selves still remained. Those whose hearts were taken by force were but unwilling pawns, and unwilling pawns make for unpredictable assets.

But this flaw was not insurmountable. Cora discovered that when one gifted his heart willingly, he gifted not merely his heart, but his will, his sense of self, everything that made him _him_. Such pawns could be counted on to do anything their master ordered immediately, without reservation and without question.

Among the race of men, there were those who desired power above all things, and so it was that Cora was able to obtain for the Dark One five men from Camelot willing to give their hearts and become the ultimate weapons. It was a simple matter of promising these men power beyond their wildest dreams, a share in the majesty the Dark One would amass once the last of the lands fell to his dominion.

Now in possession of his ultimate fighting force, the Dark One could go after a much more significant prize.

Now the Dark One wanted a princess.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Misthaven, 22 years ago_

Snow White checked the corridor of her parents’ castle one last time, looking first left and then right, and then let out her breath in relief. It seemed she had succeeded in shaking Graham. She understood her father’s insistence she have a guard with her at all times, given the dangerous situation the Enchanted Forest found itself in, but after this afternoon’s council meeting--and particularly, her conversation afterwards--she desperately needed a moment alone.

Careful not to make a sound along the stone corridors, Snow made her way out the castle’s hidden side entrance and then sprinted toward the woods.

To say it had been an unsettling morning would be a massive understatement. Having just celebrated her eighteenth birthday, her father had finally deemed her old enough to take a seat on the council, and this morning had been her first meeting.

She’d known the history of the Dark One all her life, his reign of terror, his ambition, his malice. He’d seemed well nigh unstoppable until the fateful battle where her father had taken the Dark One's sword, the source of his power, and then imprisoned him. Snow had been raised to fear the Dark One and the danger that hatred, blind ambition and lust for power could engender.

What Snow had not realized until this very morning was that while Rumplestiltskin, the current Dark One, had been stopped, he had not been defeated, for as long as a leader could still inspire blind fidelity, he could still wreak untold damage.

And Rumplestiltskin was doing just that.

“Sire, I’m afraid the latest reports from King George’s kingdom are quite terrible,” Graham said gravely at this morning’s council meeting. “A tragedy has befallen his house.”

“What tragedy?” King Leopold demanded. “Are they in need of aid?”

“I’m afraid it’s too late to send aid,” Graham answered. “For yesterev’n, crown Prince James was struck down in battle with the Behemoth.”

Snow gasped, noting her shock reflected at her from all the faces around the council table. King George, while known to be cunning, ruthless and tyrannical, had been one of the few human monarchs left who had not been swayed to the Dark One’s side before the battle that ended his reign. King George had been blessed with but one child and heir. To lose that heir was an unmitigated disaster.

“We must send our deepest condolences,” King Leopold stated. “We must assure George of our continued support.”

“If the reports are to be trusted,'' Granny said, looking up from her knitting needles, “it’s too late for that. Madness has struck the king following the loss of his heir. In his grief and despair, he contacted Neverland, pledging his allegiance to the forces of the Dark One. King George’s kingdom has fallen.”

The danger this development posed was incalculable. With every kingdom that fell, the Dark One gained more allies, more faithful soldiers to his cause, more strength, more of a chance of escaping his prison.

Snow had left the meeting so deep in her disturbed musings that she hadn’t seen Merlin in the corridor until she’d nearly collided with him.

“My apologies” she’d said. “I’m afraid I was not looking where I was going. The tidings of the meeting have rather preoccupied me.”

Merlin had smiled at her, the strange, enigmatic smile that was his trademark. “No need to apologize, Princess,” he said politely. “In fact, I was on my way to seek you out, so this meeting suits my purposes well.”

Snow’s brows furrowed, feeling more than a little uneasy at the intent way the wizard looked at her.

“Wh-what can I help you with?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Merlin stepped back into the now-empty council room, beckoning her to follow. Snow did so, taking the seat Merlin indicated. For a long moment, neither spoke, and Snow felt her unease increase with every passing moment.

“We have reached a crossroads,” Merlin said finally. “What happens moving forward will determine the fate of Enchanted Forest and indeed the entire world. I see two futures for Misthaven. In one, the Dark One regains power and his wrath and hatred will know no bounds. In the other, he is stopped, defeated and destroyed forever. Nothing less than the fate of the entire world rests on which future comes to pass.”

Snow’s heart raced. She’d known the Dark One still posed a danger, but she had no idea of the stakes her realm faced. It was the difference between life and death, freedom and perpetual slavery to evil.

“Why are you telling me this?” Snow asked in a small voice.

Merlin smiled at her. “You, Princess Snow, are the key to our salvation.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

“Indeed,” Merlin said with a nod of his head. “I’ve received a prophecy. You are to become the mother of the savior, the one person in all the realms capable of defeating the darkness.”

“But how will this happen?” she asked. “I have no husband or even a betrothed.”

Merlin smiled again. “The time is almost right, Princess. Soon you will meet him. Soon you will fall so deeply in love, you will be willing to give up everything for him. Soon you will share your heart with him. Do not fear this love; for it will be your strength. It will be our salvation. Things may not transpire in the way you expect, but your heart is true. Follow it, and you will never be led astray.”

Coming back to the present, Snow took up her bow, notched an arrow and let it fly, straight into the center of the target she’d set up in the woods. She nodded in satisfaction, feeling her tense muscles relax. Archery had been her outlet since she was small, a way to relieve tension when life as a princess became too overwhelming or constricting.

She’d always known it was her duty to marry well, to form a solid alliance for Misthaven, but if Merlin’s prophecy was to be believed, the fate of the world rested with her marrying the right man and giving birth to his child. A child who would save them all.

How was an eighteen year old to deal with such pressure? How was she to trust her heart, when it didn’t even know what it wanted? How was she to…

“It seems we’ve found our mark,.” a deep grating voice said to Snow’s left, “the elven princess!”

Snow didn’t think, merely reacted. She notched a second arrow and spun to face the intruder with a speed her father’s best archers would have envied. 

What she saw made her blood run cold. No less than five burly knights surrounded her in a close semi circle. Dressed all in black, save for bright, red, bleeding hearts emblazoned on their chests, even their faces covered with a black, mesh mask, the knights presented a terrifying picture. Snow felt her fear rise as she noted they wore the crest of Camelot upon their capes. Camelot was decidedly _not_ Misthaven’s ally. The man closest to her drew his sword from his scabbard.

“Stop right there!” she commanded in a voice that was far more thready than she would have liked. She cleared her throat and tried again, “I’m an excellent archer, and I won’t hesitate to take you out!”

The evident leader advanced on her. “You won’t take all of us, Princess, and those remaining will complete the mission. The Dark One will reward us handsomely when we gift him the heiress of Misthaven.”

There was something odd about these men. Their movements, while those of efficient fighters, were sharp, almost as though they were machines. They spoke dispassionately, no sign of emotion. The effect was eerie, frightening Snow far more than if they’d displayed anger and aggression.

Snow’s hand shook as she took aim at the nearest man. She’d been speaking truly of her prowess with a bow, but she’d lived a sheltered life. Never had she found herself in such a precarious position, and faced with the prospect of shooting another living being, she wondered if she could do it.

Her first shot missed her target by a good foot. Far from deterring the knights from their goal, Snow’s shot seemed to spur them on, the nearest one grabbed her before she was able to reach for another arrow. Snow struggled valiantly, but she was no match for five men much stronger than herself. Before she knew what was happening, the leader of the pack shoved her roughly against the nearest tree, wrenched her hands behind her back and tied her to it.

“Unhand me!” she shouted with as much bravado as she could muster.

The leader ignored her, reaching into his satchel, pulling out a small bottle of amber colored potion and pouring it over his hand. “I think not,” the man said dispassionately. “Instead, I’ll take your heart. The Dark One wishes a puppet inside of Misthaven.”

Snow’s eyes widened as the full extent of their plan washed over her, and she began struggling anew, flailing and kicking out at her attackers. In the end, it was all in vain. Tied as she was, there was nothing she could do to stop what was about to happen. She watched in horror as the man’s hand came closer and closer to her chest. She closed her eyes tightly, bracing for the pain.

But it never came. 

Instead she heard a shout of agony from the leader of the group. Daring to open her eyes, she saw the man’s hand pinned to the tree beside her, impaled on a knife.

“I believe the lady asked to be left alone.”

Snow whipped her head around at the new voice, and found herself face to face with the handsomest man she had ever seen, with sandy hair and intense blue eyes--now narrowed in anger as he looked at the men attacking her. Though he was dressed simply in the attire of a shepherd, he stood in a fighter’s stance, pulling a sword from the scabbard at his side.

For a moment, the Camelot knights stayed still, apparently shocked by the unexpected turn of events.

“Don’t just stand there!” the impaled leader finally shouted, wrenching the knife free from his hand and rushing to rejoin his companions. “Get him!”

The following moments were a blur of activity. The knights charged her rescuer, relentless in their attack. He fought valiantly, parrying blow after blow, and landing a fair few of his own, stabbing one man in the shoulder, and then stunning the next with a blow to the head with the hilt of his sword. 

It quickly became clear, though, that the blond shepherd didn’t stand a chance, one man against four skilled opponents, and a fifth who was injured but by no means defeated. Snow had to find a way to help him. She struggled against the rope tying her, rubbing her wrist nearly raw as she attempted to wriggle out. She watched in horror as one of the men held her rescuer back, while another punched him in the gut and a third advanced with his sword drawn.

Adrenaline surging, Snow gave one last tug at her bonds, and her left arm slipped out. Making quick work of the knot, she freed herself, took up her bow and aimed it at the man about to stab the shepherd. This time her hand was steady, and the arrow flew true, landing squarely in the knight’s chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. She grabbed another arrow and quickly sent it toward the knight throwing punches, taking him out as well. Spooked by the sudden defeat of their companions, the three remaining brigands took to their feet and ran off. Snow sent an arrow after them for good measure. Breathing hard from her exertion, she looked after the men until they were mere specs on the horizon.

A groan reminded Snow that she was not alone. Turning quickly toward the man who had charged in to aid her, she watched in horror as blood soaked his tunic, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crumpled to the ground.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, present day_

Killian groaned as he fell from the swirling portal onto the cold, unforgiving ground of the Land Without Magic. He lay still for a moment cataloging his various aches and pains, making sure the fall hadn’t caused any lasting damage, and then pushed himself to his feet with another groan.

Brushing dirt and debris from his simple black trousers and snagging the bag that had fallen beside him, Killian surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to be in the heart of the forest, and if he wasn’t mistaken, his port of entry had come from the massive oak tree behind him. Killian felt the relief bubble up in him. From his perusal of Merlin’s Mirror, he knew this realm was far, far different from his own, but it was pleasant to know that there were still places to be had that reminded him of home.

Still, nothing was to be accomplished by remaining here. It was rather overwhelming when he considered the sheer magnitude of the task before him. He must find a way to acclimate to this new land. He must “meet” Emma Swan. He must convince her of a truth that she would no doubt find beyond fanciful. He must do so in a way that didn’t make her think he was a madman.

Where was he to even start?

_If you’d waited until the proper time, we’d have been able to form a plan, Little Brother, but no. You had to do something rash._

Killian winced. He knew Liam’s voice was only in his imagination, but there was no doubt when he discovered what Killian had done, Liam would say something quite similar--likely along with several other things far harsher and less pleasant. Killian took a deep breath, determinedly putting his brother from his mind. He’d beg forgiveness and make peace with Liam later. For the moment he must keep his wits about him.

First thing was first. He’d viewed enough of this world from his mirror, that he knew he would need lodging, employment, and some form of transportation. How he was to go about finding it, he didn’t know, but what he did know was that it wouldn’t suddenly appear to him in this forest.

Not knowing what else was to be done, Killian began walking, eventually finding himself on a smooth road paved in black with yellow and white lines painted in the center and on the sides. He’d just bent down to examine the short, intermittent yellow lines along the center of the road, wondering what they signified, when he heard a loud roaring noise, and twin beams of light headed right for him.

Killian tried to move aside, but it was too late. The loud metal beast blared and then made a screeching sound before it rammed into him. His head slammed against what looked like glass, and then he was tossed to the hard, unforgiving ground below. His vision swam before blackness overtook him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Sir! Wake up! Wake up! Are you okay? Oh, please say you’re okay! Please say I didn’t kill you!”

Killian groaned, holding his aching head as he looked up at a short man with a black beard and a red knit cap.

“You’re alive!” the man said joyfully, bending down, arms outstretched as though to embrace him.

Killian put his hand out, holding the strange little man at bay, thinking to himself that he resembled the human equivalent of an over-eager puppy.

“Aye,” Killian ground out, sitting up slowly. “It seems your horseless carriage hasn’t done me in, although it was not for lack of trying.”

“My horseless--?” the man began, brows furrowed. “Just how hard did you hit your head, sir? It’s a _car_.”

_Car, of course_. Killian must remember the correct terminology of this land if he was to avoid bringing unwanted attention to himself. He shook his head to clear it and immediately regretted the action as he felt the blinding pain at his temples.

Well he was having a bloody fantastic first day in a new land, wasn’t he?

“My name’s Smee,” the man said, “William Smee. Please don’t call the police! I’m sorry I hit you. I didn’t see you. What were you doing bending down like that? Doesn’t matter. Tell me how I can make this up to you!”

Killian sighed, gingerly getting to his feet. “Well, Mr. Smee, for starters, you can stop talking so I can bloody hear myself think!”

“Of course, sir! Right away sir! Whatever you want! If you want me to be quiet, I can be--”

Killian glared at the little man, and he suddenly closed his mouth, pressing his lips together before running his thumb and forefinger across them and then turning them as though turning a key in a lock.

Killian rolled his eyes.

“Now then,” Killian said, looking around, “perhaps you could be of service to me, Mr. Smee. I seem to find myself alone in an unfamiliar land with little more than the clothes on my back. If you’d rather I not summon these police of yours, perhaps you’d agree to help me establish myself in this place. What do you call it?”

Smee looked silently at him. 

“Well?” Killian asked irritably when the man remained silent.

Smee pointed to his lips and then shrugged. 

Killian rolled his eyes. “You may unlock your lips now, Mr. Smee, seeing as my question begs an answer. About my request. Will you help me?”

“Of course, Sir!” Smee said, smiling and nodding eagerly. “For starters, how about you take my car?”

“Take your car?” Killian said, looking over at the yellow vessel. “What are you on about Smee?”

Smee looked away, shifting nervously from side to side. “Well, you see, I may have _technically_ come across this car through means of questionable legality.”

“You mean you stole it.”

“Well--well, yeah,” Smee stammered. “But the guy I got it from didn’t want it anymore anyway. Called it a hunk of junk. Kept kicking it and stuff. So if you think about it, it wasn’t so much _stealing_ as _rescuing_.”

Only with great difficulty did Killian resist the urge to roll his eyes yet again. “Very well Mr. Smee, but if you give me your car, what will you do for transportation?”

Smee shrugged. “I can always ste--I mean _rescue_ another one. Piece of cake. So that’s one thing off your list! What else can I help you with? I kind of specialize in hard to find things.”

Killian looked intently at the man before him. “Why would you do so much for me?”

“Well,” Smee said, looking aside, idly dragging his toe in the dirt at his feet, “I did hit you with my car, and you didn’t call the police. Seems a good way to say thank you. ‘Sides, you seem to be having a bad day, like you could use a friend.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Smee proved to be invaluable in the first few weeks of Killian’s life in the Land Without Magic. He was knowledgeable and helpful and so very eager to please. Within a day, Smee had obtained something called a “fake ID”, although the process was not without its difficulties.

“Okay, so I need your birthday, Captain,” Smee had said. No sooner had Killian revealed that he was in the navy than Smee gave him the title. It didn’t matter how many times Killian told him he was merely a lieutenant, Smee seemed incapable of understanding the distinctions in rank.

“Um, January 26, I believe,” Killian said.

Smee gave him a strange look. “You believe? You don’t know when your own birthday is?”

Killian scratched at the back of his ear. “Such things were not noted with much importance where I’m from.”

It was true enough. The day of one’s birth was acknowledged in Misthaven, but when one lived for hundreds of years, one was not feted in the same way people in this realm were. Killian himself had seen 235 birthdays pass, and the day had long since ceased to be of much import to him.

“You never did tell me where it is that you’re from, Captain.” Smee said, sending him a curious glance.

“No, I did not,” Killian said, tossing his companion an irritated look, “And if you please, I would prefer to get settled rather than prattle on about things that do not matter.”

Smee looked properly chastened, and went back to work producing a small, thin rectangle of plastic bearing Killian’s image and various bits of identifying information. It was an odd custom to carry such a thing upon his person, but Smee had assured him that he would need the “ID” in order to carry out most items of business within this realm that went by the curious name of “Maine”.

ID secured, Smee next found Killian lodging, a loft apartment on the main street of town. Killian looked at the space, noting the small but functional kitchen, the privy, the sleeping quarters walled off from the rest by a sheet, the stairs leading to an open loft which Smee told him could function as a second bedroom, should he have need of it. It was a far cry from the dwellings of his home realm, but Killian found it sufficient to his needs.

With lodging, an identification and a vessel secured for himself, the next order of business was to find employment.

Smee shrugged. “I mean, you could always steal stuff if you wanted.”

Killian glared at him. “Mr. Smee, you may enjoy the life of the petty criminal, but I wish to establish a legitimate livelihood.”

“Suit yourself,” Smee said. 

Killian’s first thought was to seek employment at the diner where Emma was a waitress. It would be a way to become acquainted with her in a manner she would no doubt find non-threatening and natural. He quickly rejected the idea, however, knowing he was constitutionally unsuited to such work.

“We are located near the sea, are we not, Mr. Smee?” Killian asked.

“Yeah,” Smee said, gesturing to his left. “It’s a couple miles that way. You wanna get a job down at the docks?”

“Something near the ocean would be perfect.”

Smee came through once again, obtaining Killian the job of assistant to the harbormaster. Killian smiled as he signed the last document and then stepped out of the harbormaster’s office. Everything was falling into place for him.

All but one thing, that is.

Killian had yet to devise a way to establish a connection with Emma Swan. 

He’d watched her enough through his mirror to know that she’d led a difficult life, a life that made her build walls around her heart, a life that made her distrustful and closed off. He must build a rapport with her with utmost caution, slowly gaining her trust, proving to her again and again that he wished nothing but the best this realm--or any other--had to offer.

And he had but one shot at it. He was wise enough to know that if he blew his chance, he would never get another. If he lost Emma’s trust, she would never give him another chance to be a part of her life, and more importantly, she would never open her mind and heart enough to believe the truth he’d been sent to impart to her.

Killian’s palms sweat just thinking of the magnitude of what he must accomplish. He must bide his time and find the perfect moment to approach her, but he also knew continued inaction was not an option.

_A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets._

It was one of the first lessons Liam had ever taught him, and it was one he was determined to live by when it came to the lovely princess of Misthaven. He would fight for her, not just because his realm depended on it, but also because she deserved to know the truth about her beginnings.

Now if he could only figure out how to go about it.

As it happened, fate figured it out for him.

It was a day in early fall, the time of year when the weather was most changeable. There had been a tremendous thunderstorm the night before, the kind that rattled the windows and made his entire flat shake with the force of the thunder. This had inevitably led to a broken and very poor night of sleep.

Killian yawned as he walked from the harbormaster’s office as his lunch break began, deciding to forgo sustenance in favor of a nap. He contemplated returning to his flat, but ultimately rejected the idea. The drive would cut into valuable sleeping time. Instead, he opted to curl up on the backseat of his yellow Beetle. He was asleep as soon as his eyes closed.

He awoke suddenly, only minutes later, at the sound of a lock being picked and the drivers’ side door opening and then closing. Senses alert, ready to fight, Killian turned his eyes toward the person who was trying to steal his stolen car.

His jaw dropped.

_Swan!_

She wore her long blonde hair in a ponytail high on her head, dark rimmed glasses he knew she didn’t require adorning her visage. Her eyes darted from side to side, the apprehension clear on her face, before she inserted a file into the ignition and banged on it until his Beetle roared to life. She’d only just pulled away from his parking spot along the road, when he decided it was time to reveal his presence.

“Impressive,” He said, sitting up and popping his head between the headrests of the front seat and dangling his car keys before her, “but you could have just asked for these.”

_Notes:_

_\--So sorry for the delay in updating, but first I had a cold, and then the writing was slow going. Realistically, especially as we approach the holidays, I’m not going to be able to post every single week, so my update schedule is shifting slightly. I plan to post every other Tuesday, with a delay in updating not lasting more than 4 weeks._

_\--Big thanks to @clockadile, my artist for the suggestion to make the Camelot knights in the flashback section my story’s equivalent of ringwraiths! Inspired!_

_\--Don’t be too mad at me for how I left Charming at the end of the flashback! Obviously, since Snow and Charming just met and Emma hasn’t been conceived yet, this isn’t the end for Charming._

_\--As to the present day section, I originally had no plans to include Smee in this story, but he just kind of showed up, and he (and his interactions with Killian) ended up being my favorite part of this chapter to write._

_\--Up next: In the flashback: More Snowing meeting and falling in love. In the present day section, we see why Emma decided to steal the yellow bug and then, instead of calling the cops on her, Killian’s reaction to Emma’s attempted theft surprises her._


	4. The Houses of Healing

Chapter 3: The Houses of Healing

_Misthaven, 22 years ago_

David Nolan swam up from the depths of sleep slowly and with more than a little difficulty. He was warm, comfortable, in a state of complete relaxation. and somehow he knew it would all shatter when he broke through the surface of consciousness.

The first things he noticed were the sounds. A gentle breeze ruffling the trees, the babbling of a brook, the muted rushing of a distant waterfall, the soft cooing of a dove.

_Peace._ It all gave him a feeling of peace.

David slowly opened his eyes, noting the large, white four-poster bed he laid upon, silky sheets soft against him, the canopy swaying in the breeze from the open window, the bright sunshine streaming in, the sweet smelling rushes upon the stone floor, the elfen tapestry on the walls.

His heart raced as he realized he had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. He sat up quickly, and immediately regretted it as his head swam and he felt a sharp twinge from the right side of his chest. David slowly lay back upon his pillow, hand moving to cover his chest, where he found a bandage. He hissed with a grimace as he forced himself to breathe slowly, trying to relax into the pain.

The door of his bedroom opened and a smiling, matronly elfen woman in a simple dress covered with a white apron stepped through.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” she said, taking a seat on the straight-backed chair next to his bed, setting various medical supplies next to him. “I was beginning to despair of you ever waking.”

“Who…” David croaked, noting the dryness of his throat.

The elf reached for a pitcher on the nightstand, and then handed him a glass of water. David accepted the offer with a whispered thanks, took a swig and then started again.

“Where am I and who are you?”

“You’re in Misthaven, of course,” the elf said, as though it was a perfectly normal occurrence for a man to suddenly wake up and find himself within the elfen realm. “And I’m Johanna, former nursemaid to Princess Snow White. She sent me to tend to you.”

“But how did I get here?” David asked.

The woman laughed softly and then busied herself fluffing his pillow, testing his temperature with her hand against his forehead, adjusting the sheet that covered him. “Come now. Surely you didn’t believe that Princess Snow would leave the valiant man who came to her aid to die on the forest floor! She brought you back here, knowing that our elfen remedies are your best bet against the nasty wound you sustained.”

Suddenly it all rushed back to David. 

Yesterday (was it yesterday? Just how long had he been unconscious in Misthaven?) his entire world had been upended after King George himself made a visit to his farm. When he’d learned the full truth about his monarch, his plans and his crooked dealings, he’d had but one aim in mind--escape. Better to be an exile from his native land than be used as a tool to further the Dark One.

He’d just made it to the outskirts of Misthaven, when he heard a commotion, a woman’s distressed voice. Leaving his horse tethered to a nearby tree, David had sprinted toward the sounds.

Anger kindled and adrenaline surged as he came upon five knights attacking a lone elfen woman. They’d tied her to a tree, and one of them poured a potion over his hand before reaching it toward her chest.

David didn’t stop to think, merely reacted. It was but the work of a moment for him to pull his dagger from his boot, take aim and throw it.

“I believe the lady asked to be left alone,” he said, watching as his knife hit its mark, pinning the knight’s hand to a nearby tree.

David only remembered the rest in flashes. Swords drawn, a pitched battle, a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, blood as he collapsed to his knees, the fierce, beautiful elfen maiden rushing toward him, darkness.

“My thanks for all you’ve done for me,” David said, grasping the nurse’s hand.

She waved off the thanks. “It was the least I could do. Besides, it’s really Princess Snow you should be thanking. She’s handled the bulk of your care, rarely agreeing to leave your side. In fact, I should fetch her now. She’ll be most pleased to learn you’ve come back to us.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“My lady, our guest has awoken.”

Snow looked up quickly, noting the smile on her former nursemaid’s face. The relief coursed through her strong and swift.

“And he’s well?” Snow asked, noting the breathlessness in her voice.

Johanna swiftly entered the room and folded Snow into her motherly arms. “He’s still quite weak, and the wound has yet to heal fully, but I believe we’ve done it my dear. I believe we’ve saved him.”

Snow hugged Johanna back as the tears rushed to her eyes. It was odd and a bit unsettling how emotional she’d become over a man she’d yet to exchange a word with.

“Thank you!” she murmured, stepping back and swiping at her damp eyes surreptitiously. “I’ll go see him now, if you don’t think it would be too much for him.”

Johanna’s answering grin was just a bit too knowing. “Oh, my lady, on the contrary. I think he’d be delighted.”

Snow wasted no more time, stepping quickly from her chamber and making her way down the stone corridor to the castle’s infirmary.

All her life Snow White had heard lovely tales of love at first sight, of love so strong the affected parties knew it in an instant, but she’d always dismissed those tales as fanciful nonsense. How could one possibly know another person was her soulmate simply from one meeting?

But now, now she wasn’t so sure.

Her reaction to the handsome stranger who’d gallantly rushed to her rescue was something that she couldn’t explain, something she couldn’t quantify. All she knew was that the moment she saw him, she felt a rush of peace, a rush of _rightness_. Even in the midst of the terrible danger she’d found herself in, the moment she saw him, _she knew_. She knew that whatever destiny lay before the two of them, somehow it was intertwined.

She’d never felt such fear as she had the moment the fight was over and she saw the man slump forward, a growing crimson stain along his side where he’d been stabbed. She didn’t know who this man was or why he’d suddenly appeared, but there was one thing she knew for sure: She could not let him die. 

Snow had quickly untied the man’s horse and then maneuvered him on it with more than a little difficulty. He’d remained unconscious through the ordeal, but he’d moaned softly as she jostled him, setting him upon the horse and then mounting behind him, holding him to her, and setting the horse into a quick gallop.

The crown princess of Misthaven returning from the forest with an unconscious, gravely injured man had created no little stir among the residents of the Misthaven palace. 

“Daughter? What has happened? Who is this man?” her father demanded as she dismounted and a servant helped the wounded man from the horse.

“I’ll tell you all, Father, I swear it,” she’d said, her voice not quite steady, “but first I must see him to the houses of healing. Father, he saved my life. The least I can do is save his.”

Over the several days that followed, Snow had barely left the man’s side. She’d spent hours sitting with him, reading to him from her favorite storybooks, talking to him, telling him about her day. His wound had slowly knit itself back together, and she’d been pleased to see no signs of fever or infection.

But he didn’t wake, and Snow was beginning to wonder if he ever would until just this moment when Johanna gave her the good news.

Snow tapped lightly on the infirmary door, her heart pounding with the inescapable belief that things were about to change for her forever.

“Enter,” came the reply from within.

Snow took a deep breath, her heart pounding, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She let her breath out slowly before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

The patient was sitting up in bed, propped up by a veritable mountain of pillows behind his back. His sandy hair was in disarray, his blousy white shirt open and slightly rumpled, his cheeks bearing a palor that spoke to the fact that while he might be greatly improved, he was still far from recovered.

She’d never seen anyone more handsome.

“You’re awake, at last!” she said, moving swiftly and taking a seat on the side of his bed.

“I am indeed, Your Highness,” he said, attempting to sit up more fully, only to slump back with a groan as he clutched his side.

“Don’t try to get up,” she said quickly, placing a hand over his to keep him still. “You don’t want to undo the healers’ work in mending your wound.”

“No indeed,” he said with a smile. “I hear I have you to thank for the exemplary care I’ve been receiving.”

Snow shook her head, only barely resisting the impulse to reach for him again. “On the contrary, It’s I who should be thanking you. You saved me.”

His answering grin was more than a bit mischievous. “It seemed like the honorable thing to do.”

Snow laughed. “You’re a regular Prince Charming, aren’t you?”

“I have a name, you know,” the man said playfully.

“Don’t care,” Snow returned, an equal playfulness to her tone. “Charming suits you.”

The man’s resulting laugh was joyous and boisterous--at least until it turned to a groan as he reached once more to cover his injury.

“Perhaps laughter is ill advised for the moment,” he muttered.

Snow busied herself checking the wound, applying salve and then covering it once again, before looking into his blue eyes, turning serious. “I cannot thank you enough for what you did for me back in the forest. If you’d not arrived when you did, the consequences for my entire kingdom could have been catastrophic. How could we do anything less than give your our finest care after the service you rendered to us?”

The man lifted his hand, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then took her hand in his. “When I heard your scream and saw a single elfen woman being set upon by no less than five wraiths I had to intervene. I only did what any man of honor would do.”

Snow shook her head, turning her hand until her fingers were laced with his. “Not any man would do what you did for me. Far too many would turn away from a fight that seemed impossible to win. If you don’t mind me asking, just who are you Charming? You fight like a trained knight, yet you’re dressed as a shepherd.”

“Perhaps it’s a bit of both,” the man said, his smile turning melancholy. “My name is David Nolan, and three weeks ago, my entire world was turned upside down.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What news have you from the convalescent?” King Leopold asked Snow later that evening as a special council meeting began. “Who is he, and does his presence represent a threat to our kingdom?”

Snow took a deep breath before standing to address the council members sitting at the round table on the palace’s terrace. “He had quite a remarkable tale to tell me, Father, and no. I don’t believe he presents any threat--quite the opposite--but he does bring us information about a very real threat that has been under our noses for decades.”

“Well, don’t leave us in suspense, Your Highness,” Grumpy said, characteristic scowl on his face. “What did you learn?”

“Our guest is named David Nolan, and up until three weeks ago, he was a simple shepherd, living with his widowed mother on their farm,” Snow began. “Three weeks ago, he was summoned to the court of King George. There he learned the truth of his early years. King George and his queen had been unable to conceive. Concerned about the succession of the throne, the king called upon the Dark One to help him solve his problem.”

There was a collective gasp around the room, and Snow nodded gravely, meeting the eyes of several council members.

“King George ended the meeting by making a deal with the Dark One. If Rumplestiltskin could produce an heir for him, King George would pledge his fealty to the Dark One but would do it in secret so as to essentially be a spy against the Dark One’s enemies.”

Bedlam erupted around the council as the full weight of King George’s treachery was revealed. Finally, King Leopold stood, raising his hand for quiet. “Continue, my daughter. What has this turn of events to do with our patient?”

“The Dark One fulfilled his end of the deal by targeting a desperate couple. Their twin infant sons were desperately ill, and it looked as though they would perish. The Dark One offered to provide them with the cure for the boys, but in exchange, he would take one of them. The desperate parents agonized over the decision, but in the end chose to take the deal. Better both of the boys live, even if one should be taken from them, than both of them die. The child the Dark One took and gifted to King George was Prince James. The remaining twin was David Nolan, our guest.”

The outcry from this revelation was louder and more furious than the first, with calls for the patient’s banishment from Misthaven coming from several corners. It took a full five minutes for the king to restore calm this time.

“You say you do not believe this man, this David Nolan to be a threat,” Marco said when order was restored. “Upon what do you base this assessment?”

“I base it upon the fact that David Nolan is an innocent victim in all of this,” Snow said firmly. “He did not choose to have his family ripped apart when he was an infant, and he didn’t choose what’s happening now.”

“What _is_ happening now, if I might ask, your highness,” Graham asked.

“David told me that King George called him to the palace in order to make him his new son and successor, but when David heard of King George’s treachery and loyalty to the Dark One he was horrified. I may have just met him, but I can tell David is a good man, a man of courage and integrity, a man who will do what’s right no matter the consequences to himself.”

“And what did he do after learning of his king’s wishes?” King Leopold asked.

“He packed his mother and sent her away from the kingdom, knowing King George might retaliate when he learned that David had no intention of complying. Once David knew his mother was safe, he, himself set out to follow her under cover of night. It was while he was on this journey that he happened upon the wraiths attacking me.”

The council meeting lasted long into the night as the best and brightest elves of Misthaven debated what was to be done regarding these new revelations. More than a few members of the council stood firm in their belief that David Nolan should be banished from Misthaven. The son of a corrupt king could not be trusted in their midst.

But Snow was both adamant and passionate in defense of the patient. She’d known him only for a matter of hours, but already she felt such a strong connection to him she thought it would be physically painful to be separated. Already she felt as though she knew him, understood him, could vouch for him with absolute certainty.

“Don’t you understand?” she said finally, banging a fist upon the table in her frustration. “David is not in league with the king; he’s doing all in his power to undermine him! He’s willing to leave his home and live in hiding for the rest of his life rather than provide aid to the Dark One. David is our _ally_, not someone we should mistrust! And let’s not forget the critical point that he saved my life. He fought the Dark One’s minions in order to protect me, in order to ensure the Dark One wasn’t able to take my heart and use me to undermine everything we hold dear. Do we not at least owe him a chance to remain and finish convalescing for that service rendered to us?”

Snow’s impassioned speech was met with silence as council men and women contemplated her statements. Finally Merlin stood and gave Snow a significant, knowing look. She fought against the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

“Princess Snow is right,” Merlin said once again in his characteristic slow, measured tones. “Though King George has been revealed to be the worst of men, David Nolan is innocent in his schemes. What’s more, I believe David Nolan may be far more important than any here present yet understand. He may be pivotal in our ongoing fight against the Dark One.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, Present Day_

“This is the last time, Swan. The last time!” Louie yelled from his perch across from her in his rather messy office. 

Emma remained resolutely silent, attempting everything in her power to keep her expression neutral, to keep her anger from showing on her face. She knew from experience that her boss loved lording it over his employees and any backtalk only made his rants worse.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Emma said, trying her best to sound humble and contrite. “My new place is a lot farther from the bus stop. It took longer than I expected to get there. I won’t be late again; I promise.”

_My new place_.

Emma fumed inwardly. She had a new place alright, if you could even call that. Two days ago she’d been evicted from her crappy apartment because she couldn’t pay her rent. Since then she’d been staying in an even crappier hotel while she tried to figure out where to go next.

As if she could even afford to go _anywhere_.

Gods her life sucked.

Louie scoffed. “You think I’m interested in your bogus excuses? I run a business, not a charity. My employees can’t get their lazy butts to work on time, my restaurant goes downhill. This is the last time, Swan.” Louie repeated. “Next time you’re late, I can you. Got it? You think you’re special? You’re _nothing_! Mediocre waitresses like you are a dime a dozen.”

Something inside Emma snapped. Her face reddened and her heart pounded. She felt something bubble up from within, something warm and bright and almost like electricity rushed through her until it felt like it was right at her fingertips. The fluorescent light in Louie’s office flickered. It was odd how often the lights flickered when Emma felt particularly strong emotion.

Emma stood abruptly, yanked off her hat and apron, and slammed them down on Louie’s desk with such force that one of his stupid knick-knacks fell to the floor and shattered.

“Yeah, I’ll spare you the trouble. I quit!” She turned and stalked from the office, opening the door with such force it banged against the wall behind it.

Just before she stepped through, she turned back again. That strange electric feeling in her hands was even stronger. She had the weirdest urge to raise her hands toward him and--well, she didn’t know what, but something big; something monumental.

“And one more thing. I’m _not_ nothing. I was _never_ nothing.”

With that, she left The Main Street Cafe behind, metaphorically shaking the dust from her feet. She walked for what felt like hours, no destination in mind, no idea where she would end up. All she knew was that she needed to work off some of this anger and aggression before she ended up back at the cafe punching Louie in the face.

Her bad tempered ex-employer might have pushed her too far, and she’d finally pushed back, but some part of Emma wondered if she’d reacted so strongly because she knew what he said was true. Maybe she _was _nothing. She’d never been worth the trouble to her foster families, and obviously she wasn’t worth the trouble to her boss either.

What did she really have to offer anyone?

Emma walked until she felt the exhaustion wash over her. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the park bench behind her as the reality of her situation suddenly hit her.

What had she done?

Yeah, Louie was a bastard of mammoth proportions, but at least he’d given her a job. Now what did she have? A big fat _nothing_, that’s what. No house, no job, barely more possessions than the clothes on her back. She wouldn’t even be able to afford to stay in her hotel room for more than a couple days, then what?

She was so screwed.

The more responsible part of her urged her to go back to the cafe, eat crow and beg Louie for her job back. Better a horrible job she hated than being tossed out on the streets.

But the very thought made the bile rise up in her throat. She couldn’t go back. She _couldn’t_. She’d figure something out, she had to, because she’d never willingly step foot in that restaurant again.

Emma glanced over at the street on the edge of the wooded area she’d ended up, and it was then that she saw it. It was an apparently abandoned Volkswagon bug, its color a bright yellow that reminded Emma of sunshine. As she continued looking at it a crazy, desperate plan began forming in her mind.

With a vehicle, she’d have a place to sleep--albeit a rather uncomfortable one. With transportation, she could leave this stupid town and start brand new somewhere else, somewhere no one knew her, somewhere maybe things could turn around.

Her heart pounded as the plan formed in her mind. Was she crazy? Was she actually considering car theft? Yeah, she’d stolen things before when she needed them, but nothing as big or monumental as a freaking car. She was insane; stealing this bug would change _everything_.

But the more she looked at it, the more she felt drawn to it. Yeah, her plan was crazy, but she was going to do it.

Mind made up, Emma got up from her bench and slowly approached her target. She looked around, listening intently for the sound of someone, anyone around to catch her, but all she heard was the trill of a bird in a nearby tree. Working quickly, she picked the lock and hopped in the car.

It was the work of a moment to hotwire the thing and then pull away from the curb.

She’d just reached the stop sign at the end of the block when she heard rustling behind her, and then key’s were dangled before her. “Impressive, but you could have just asked for these.”

Emma screamed, jumping so high she hit her head on the roof of the bug. Cursing, she whirled around to confront the intruder, her heart racing.

She wasn’t expecting to find herself face to face with the single handsomest man she’d ever seen. With his messy black hair, his bright blue eyes, his slightly pointed ears, his reddish scruff and the straight, white teeth that were currently on full display thanks to the flirtatious grin he was sending her way, he quite literally took her breath away.

“Breathe darling,” the man said with a smirk. “It’s rather an important function.”

Emma blinked, putting the car in park and turning to face the man fully, the scowl on her face as menacing as she could make it. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my car?” she asked.

He threw back his head and laughed. “Perhaps the better question, love, is who are you, and what are you doing in _my _car?”

As the shock of the encounter began to wear off, the precariousness of Emma’s position began to sink in. He was right. She’d just stolen his car.

_Holy crap! She’d just got caught in the very act of car theft!._

Emma reached for the car door handle, intent on jumping out and making a run for it. That would just be the icing on the cake, wouldn’t it? Getting arrested would be the perfect ending to this terrible day.

“Wait!” he said, reaching for her arm. “I don’t mean you any harm; I swear it.”

Emma had always had a gift; she called it her superpower. She could tell when someone was lying to her. She looked into the man’s eyes, really looked, waiting for the lie to jump out at her.

It never came. She didn’t know what this guy’s deal was, but he was telling the truth. He didn’t mean her any harm.

“You literally just caught me trying to steal your car,” Emma said. “Why the hell aren’t you calling the cops on me?”

He was silent for a moment and the smirk slid from his face, replaced with something else, something that looked like compassion, perhaps even care.

“I can recognize a desperate soul,” he said finally. “I don’t know why you tried to steal my car, but I can tell you feel you have no choice. I don’t think you need punishment; I think you need compassion.”

Emma didn’t know what she expected the man to say, but it wasn’t that. She was used to people seeing the worst in her. What was this guy’s angle?

“So, you’re just going to let me go because you feel ‘compassion’?” she asked.

“Well,” he said, drawing out the single syllable, smirk back on his face. “I’ll let it go if you’ll allow me to buy you lunch.”

“I’m not gonna sleep with you,” she said.

He laughed again. “I don’t recall asking. Besides, love, I think any dining establishment we patronize would rather frown upon us going at it right their tables.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So let me get this straight. I steal your car and not only do you not call the cops, but you offer to buy me lunch--no strings attached?”

“That seems to be about the shape of it.”

“Why?”

There was the soft look again. “We all have bad days where we could use a little understanding. Perhaps over lunch you could tell me how you find yourself in such straights that you feel you must resort to theft.”

Emma was silent for another moment, mulling it over, trying to figure out the ramifications of accepting this guy’s offer.

“I don’t even _know _you,” she said. “You could be some kind of pervert or serial killer.”

He laughed again. “Says the woman who is in the process of car theft. Of the two of us I think it’s I who should be concerned for my safety around you. After all, you are a proven criminal.”

Emma rolled her eyes. 

The man sobered once again and then offered her his hand. “Perhaps we should begin again. My name is Killian Jones. I am neither a pervert nor a serial killer, and I offer you lunch merely to make what is evidently a very bad day marginally better.”

Emma hesitated another moment, before she reached back and took his hand. “Well then Killian Jones who is neither a pervert nor a serial killer, I accept—just as long as you don’t take me to the Main Street Cafe.”

“I think I can manage that.”

_Notes_

_\--I was hoping in the first section to call to mind a couple of different LOTR moments: 1. When Frodo woke up in Rivendell after being stabbed by the wraith and 2. Faramir and Eowyn in the houses of healing. While it’s not a direct parallel, I’ve been going with kind of a Gondor vibe with King George, James and David._

_\--In the present section, there are definitely intended parallels to the scene in Tallahassee where Emma steals the bug--only Killian will handle the whole situation much differently than Neal did._

_\--Up next: In the past, more Snowing. David heals and decides to leave so as not to paint a further target on Misthaven, but he quickly runs into more trouble. Luckily he’s got an elf princess looking out for him. In the present section, we get the CS lunch “date” from Killian’s point of view. He makes a bold offer, but will Emma accept?_


	5. I Choose a Mortal Life

_The Enchanted Forest, 22 years ago_

Cora waved her hand, and the crumpled body of Sir Percival disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, the ashes of his once beating heart going with the body.

Percival and his knights had failed her, and failure was not to be tolerated.

Cora sat on her throne in the cold, dark room, feeling equally cold tendrils of fear coil around her heart. Her eyes fell on the palantir sitting upon its pedestal in the middle of the room. She’d covered it with a cloak, but she knew such precautions would not hold for long. When the Dark One wished to communicate with her, something as paltry as a cloak in a darkened room would not stop him.

Rumplestiltskin may be significantly reduced in power now, but his spirit was as strong as ever. The Dark One _would_ return to power, and when he did, there would be hell to pay for any of his servants who failed to adequately do his bidding.

Cora knew the Dark One would appear in the Palantir at any moment and she could not come to him empty handed. She must have a plan. She must.

Slowly but surely an idea began to take form. The knights had failed, it was true enough, but perhaps there was still a way…

In the center of the room, the cloak lifted and flung itself upon the floor. Cora felt her heart pound, knowing the moment of truth was upon her. If she could not convince the Dark One that she was still to be trusted and relied upon, the consequences would be dire.

Cora looked at the smooth, black orb before her and watched as it suddenly illuminated, one single all-seeing eye, surrounded by flames shone before her.

The Dark One was anything but subtle in the way he presented himself.

“Master”, she said softly, head bowed in subservience, “how can I be of service to you?”

“You can begin by explaining yourself,” came a high pitched, slightly manic voice within her head. “How is it that the self-styled greatest sorceress in all the realms could fail me so miserably? You assured me I’d own the elfen princess by now, but what do I learn instead? She’s safe and sound in her father’s kingdom, the very man destined to be the father of her savior daughter with her.”

“I am sorry,” she said again, refusing to look into the disembodied lidless eye. “I miscalculated. The knights chosen for the mission…”

He stopped her with a bellow so loud, she feared her head would split from within.

“I’m not interested in your paltry excuses, dearie,” the Dark One said, “I am interested in _results_. The results of your little experiment could not have been worse. Tell me, Cora, give me one reason I shouldn’t strike you down where you stand.”

Cora felt herself shaking in her fright, but she took a deep breath, determinedly calmed herself, and then looked directly into the eye. The Dark One would have no sympathy for a snivelling, cowering wretch. It was only strength and power he respected.

“I admit, that I failed, my lord,” Cora said, “but all is not yet lost. There is still a way to mitigate the situation, and if I may be so bold, solve your savior problem once and for all.”

She paused for dramatic effect.

“_Well_?” The Dark One bellowed. “Out with it, dearie. What is this plan of yours?”

“My reasoning was sound, My Lord, even if the execution left something to be desired,” Cora said, beginning to pace before the palantir. “Creating willing wraiths as generals over your army will give us the advantage we desire. I merely miscalculated who to turn to. The knights of Camelot, while strong, brave and endlessly loyal, were but human. They possess human strength and are limited by their own prowess on the battlefield. But humans are not our only assets.”

“What other creature do you propose to use for our purposes?” the Dark One asked, “dwarfs? Elves? Rock trolls?”

Cora gritted her teeth. It would most assuredly _not_ do to antagonize the Dark One, but if she had the power, she would wipe the smug, skeptical tone from him.

“Not rock trolls,” she said, her voice remaining resolutely respectful, “but you are not far off. If we are to defeat Misthaven, we must have soldiers with superior strength. A human being can be overpowered, but a bridge troll, well a bridge troll cannot. I have four bridge trolls languishing in my dungeon as we speak. I’ll turn them to wraiths, promising their freedom should they succeed in our endeavor.”

“And what, precisely are these four paltry trolls going to do, dearie,” the Dark One asked, “attack Misthaven all on their own.”

Cora couldn’t resist a small eye roll. “I’ve more sense than to propose something like that.”

“I couldn’t be sure,” the Dark One said, “given your recent spectacular failure.”

If she gritted her teeth any harder, she might break them.

“It’s not all of Misthaven that we must attack,” she said through her gritted teeth. “All we need do is insure the Savior is never born or even conceived. My attempt to take Princess Snow may have failed, but I will _not_ fail to kill David Nolan.”

There was silence for another moment, as the Dark One mulled over her words. “You know, that might work, but how to get the future Prince Charming alone?”

Cora smiled nastily. “People are quite simple to manipulate if you but take the time to discover what or whom they love. David Nolan, for example, has been an exemplary son for twenty-five years. If his mother were to, say, fall into the clutches of brigands in her new home, and if David Nolan were to find out about it, it would be mere child’s play to lure him from the safety of his sanctuary with the elves and then destroy that threat to your rule forever.”

Cora knew Rumplestiltskin was thinking it over, although the flaming eye did not change. Finally he laughed, his characteristic high-pitched giggle. “I do believe you are on the way to redeeming yourself after all, dearie.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Misthaven, 22 years ago_

“And so I looked _everywhere _for my cloak,” Ruby said, dramatically gesturing with her hands, “and I thought Granny was going to have my head; the full moon’s tomorrow, after all. But then Graham--Snow? You’re not paying a bit of attention to me, are you?”

Ruby looked over at the elf who had been her best friend since she was a little werewolf cub. Snow was usually such a good listener, the best friend a were-girl could have, but today--well, today, Snow was a million miles away.

Or maybe she was just on the far side of Misthaven with a certain handsome ex-shepherd.

Ruby wasn’t blind. She knew love when she saw it, and there was no doubt in her mind. Snow was in love. Deep, total, all-consuming, would-die-for-you love.

It was a month since the handsome David Nolan had been brought to Misthaven, so badly injured that Granny had shaken her head, declaring he would be dead by sunrise. But Snow would have none of it. She’d declared that she’d nurse David back to health if she had to attend to him twenty-four hours a day to do it.

And she was as good as her word. Within two days, David was showing improvement, and within a week, he was so much improved, he probably could have been on his way if he’d truly wanted to, but it was clear to anyone looking that he didn’t want to.

It was like something out of a fairy tale, really, the way Snow spent time with him. The two of them would talk for hours, go on long walks in the gardens hand in hand, play games and laugh and flirt. 

Ruby had even accidentally witnessed a kiss once. It was at the end of the day. Snow had just walked David back to the infirmary, but just before they arrived, he pulled her aside, cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers. It was far from the most passionate kiss Ruby had ever witnessed. It was soft, sweet, gentle and achingly tender. And it was probably the most romantic thing Ruby had ever seen; brought tears to her eyes.

Yes, the truth could not be denied. Snow was in love, and Ruby was happy for her. Or, well, she _would _ be happy for her best friend if she were willing to admit what was plain to anyone with eyes.

“Hm?” Snow asked absently, eyes still on the single sprig of snowbelle she held in her delicate hand. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch what you just said.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I said, my cloak was lost and--oh for heaven’s sake!” The glassy look was already back in Snow’s eyes. Ruby grinned mischievously. “And Graham told me Granny gave it to the Dark One who likes to dance naked before a bonfire in the town square every morning at sunrise.”

Snow looked up frowning. “What are you talking about?”

Ruby laughed. “Just checking to see if you’re even listening to me.”

“Of course I’m listening,” Snow said, setting her flower aside and crossing her arms. “I always listen.”

Ruby laughed again. “Yes, you are usually the best friend anyone could ever have, but today, well, different story.”

Snow sent her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Ruby. I suppose I have quite a bit on my mind today.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“No,” Snow said, tiny patches of red coming to rest on the apples of her cheeks. “Nothing to concern yourself with, just...things.”

Ruby reached over and put a hand on Snows arms. “Things like the man you love leaving Misthaven this morning, perhaps never to be seen within these woods again?”

“What?” Snow asked, looking up quickly, eyes widened. “I...I don’t _love_ David. That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” Ruby asked gently. “Snow, you’re my best friend. I love you like a sister, and I know when something is on your heart. I _know_ you, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than you’ve been the last several weeks.”

Snow was silent for a moment, before she sighed, the color on her cheeks only deepening. “You’re right. I do love him. I love him so much, I don’t know how to contain it, but now he’s gone, and I feel like such an awful person for wishing he’d stayed.”

“Why?” Ruby asked softly. “Why do you feel like a terrible person?”

“Because of course he had to go, Ruby!” Snow said passionately. You heard about the missive he received last night! King George found out where his mother is hiding, and he plans to retaliate for David’s defection by killing her! How could I even _think_ of asking him to stay under the circumstances?”

“But you didn’t,” Ruby pointed out. “You didn’t ask him to say. You let him go with your blessing, with enough Lamas bread to last a year, and with the offer of as many of your elven fighters as he could take with him, an offer he refused, of course, but nevertheless, a generous offer. You have nothing to feel guilty about, unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Snow,” Ruby said slowly, hesitantly. “Perhaps you feel guilty because you never let him know how you feel.”

Snow’s face crumbled. “There was something there between us, Ruby. Something real, something important, something life changing, but what chance would we have had? I’m an elf and he’s a human. I have the responsibility to run my kingdom when my father goes into the west, and he has the responsibility to care for his aging mother. What good would it have done to tell him of my feelings?”

“You never know,” Ruby said. “Love, true love, tends to find a way. Look at Graham and me. Who would believe the elven captain of the guards would fall in love with the local werewolf? But we’ve found a way to make it work.”

Snow sighed, fingering the delicate petals of the snowbelle David had given her before riding away this morning. “Maybe you’re right, but it doesn’t matter now. David is gone, and I’ll likely never see him again.”

Ruby squeezed her shoulder in sympathy. “Hold on to hope, Snow. When love is true, it can never be truly discounted. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see you walking hand in hand with David Nolan yet again one day.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snow’s heart raced as she paced the halls of her chamber later that day, just as evening was beginning to paint the sky.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. She didn’t know how she knew, but David was in trouble.

Closing her eyes, Snow took a deep breath and then slowly sat upon her chair near the window. There was no reason for her panic. Logic told her that she couldn’t possibly know what was happening to a man who must be a good ten miles away by now. No way she could…

Suddenly blinding, shooting pain spread throughout her chest. It was as if she’d been stabbed. For a moment Snow feared she would die; the pain was so intense she couldn’t breathe. Finally it subsided, not entirely, but enough that she was no longer paralyzed.

Total and complete panic took over. It may make no logical sense, but she _knew_ she was right. She _knew _David was in trouble. Snow sprinted to her chamber door, threw it open and began tearing down the stone hallway, hardly knowing where she was going.

All she knew was that she _had_ to get to him.

“Woah!” Ruby said, putting out a hand to stop her in her all out run. “Where’s the fire? What’s going on Snow?”

“Something happened,” Snow said, barely able to get the words past the tightness in her throat. “David’s in trouble. I have to help him. I know it doesn’t make sense, but…”

“Go,” Ruby said, placing a calming hand on Snow’s shoulder. “Merlin’s just outside of the great hall. He can help you get there.”

Snow stopped in her tracks, sending an imploring look to her best friend. “You believe me? You don’t think I’ve gone mad?”

Ruby shook her head. “Like I said; I know love, and when you love someone you just _know_. Go save your shepherd prince. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks where you’ve gone.”

Snow gave her friend a grateful hug, before resuming her run. Ruby was right; if David really were in danger, every second counted, and she needed someone who could get her there fast.

She found Merlin in the courtyard just outside of the great hall. As was the case more often than not, he was surrounded by little elflings looking up at him with rapt attention, for Merlin was a great favorite of the children of Misthaven. Some of the older, more staid elves looked askance at the gentle magic he did for the children, but Snow could see no harm in it. What could be wrong with adding a bit more whimsy and beauty to the world?

Merlin looked around at his young audience, and then waved his hand in the air. Ooos and aahs filled the air as an entire bouquet of delicate, pink middlemist roses appeared in his arms. He stooped down to give a bud to the smallest girl, and she threw her arms around him in thanks. Merlin laughed as some of the elfen boys begged him for a fireworks display, and he was greeted with a hearty cheer when he promised to provide it once night had fallen over Misthaven.

The smile slid from his face when he caught sight of Snow. She knew she must look a sight, as terrified and desperate as she was, but Merlin merely walked toward her and told her to take his hand.

Snow gave him a questioning look, and he sent her a knowing smile. “You sense his danger, and you know we’ve no time to lose. Come. I shall use my powers to transport us to your shepherd’s side.”

If Snow wasn’t so fully consumed with her fear for David and with the pain that continued to bloom in her chest, she’d have wondered how the enigmatic wizard could have possibly known all of that, but as it was, she merely nodded, hooking her bow and quiver over her shoulder and taking Merlin’s outstretched hand.

A moment later, the smoke from Merlin’s magic cleared, and Snow found herself in a forest clearing at the edge of Misthaven. There ahead on a stone bridge, stood four huge trolls, leaning over...something. Snow couldn’t see past the one nearest her.

“Hey!” She shouted, notching an arrow to her bow.

The troll stepped aside, sending a strangely vacant stare her way. 

But it wasn’t the troll’s unusual demeanor that caught Snow’s attention; it was the man who had fallen to his knees before him.

_David!_

Snow let her arrow fly, taking the first troll out before the others could even react to her presence, and then she was running toward the man she loved. The man who, once again had blood pouring from a wound in his chest.

Snow could think of nothing but getting to him, helping him, as she vaguely noted Merlin charging into the fight, tossing some sort of powder at the remaining trolls, turning them to beetles.

The fight was over almost before it could begin, but the tears streamed down Snow’s face as she looked upon the evidence that the damage had already been done. She took David into her arms as his breathing slowed and his blood continued to pump from him with every weakening beat of his heart.

“I love you,” he whispered, raising his hand as though to touch her face. She watched in horror as the light left his eyes, as he took one final breath, as his heart slowed to a stop, as his hand fell lifelessly to the ground.

_No! _

“Merlin!” she screamed, “Merlin, help him!”

Merlin stooped beside her and shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do, Your Highness.”

“No!” she shouted. “You’re the most powerful wizard in the realm. There must be something you can do! Please, I’m begging you! Don’t let him die!”

He shook his head again. “I cannot bring life back to one who has succumbed to death.”

“Please,” she said again, barely able to form the word past her sobs. “Please! You told me I would meet him! You know how important he is, not just to me, but to the whole kingdom. There must be something you can do!”

Merlin was silent for a moment, and then a soft smile bloomed over his face. “There is nothing _I_ can do, but there may be be something you can.”

“What? I’ll do anything; _anything!_”

“It is a desperate and dangerous endeavor,” Merlin warned, “and once attempted, there will be no coming back from it.”

“I don’t care,” Snow sobbed. “I don’t care if it costs me my life. I’ll do it.”

Merlin nodded. “If your love is true, really true, there is one thing I can do. I can split your heart, giving each of you half. But I warn you again, such a procedure will have serious ramifications. Should you split your heart with this human, you become human. You give up your elfen immortality.”

“Do it,” Snow said simply. “I choose a mortal life. What good is immortality if I have to live it without him?”

As Merlin plunged his hand into her chest and pulled out her heart, Snow thought back to his words of a few weeks ago.

_Soon you will meet him. Soon you will fall so deeply in love, you will be willing to give up everything for him. Soon you will share your heart with him._

Merlin knew. Somehow he’d known even back then what would happen today, and the realization filled Snow with such a peace and calm that she barely felt the pain of her heart being pulled from her body and twisted in two.

This was going to work. She would get David back.

With her heart successfully split, Merlin reached down, putting a half of her heart back in each of their bodies.

For a moment nothing happened.

And then David gasped for breath, coughing like a drowning man pulled from the ocean, as he moved to a sitting position.

“You found me,” he said, voice gravelly after his ordeal.

Snow smiled, reaching to cup his cheek. “Did you ever doubt I would?”

“Truthfully?” he said with a playful grin, “the sword through my heart gave me pause.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, present day_

Killian smiled to himself as he gestured for Emma to precede him into The Marina Cafe. Things were moving forward better than he could have anticipated. It was as though the fates themselves were on his side, gently manipulating the situation to make his task of bringing back the savior easier.

Ariel smiled knowingly at him as she led them to their seats and took their drink order. Killian felt a blush spread across his face, and no doubt the tips of his ears. Working together at the marina in various capacities, he’d become good friends with the perky redhead. Recently engaged herself to a fisherman by the name of Eric, Ariel seemed to have decided it was her mission to see Killian paired up with a love of his own.

He chanced a quick glance at Emma, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw her simply studying the menu, apparently oblivious to the machinations of his far too nosy coworker.

Emma was beautiful, he need only have eyes to know that, and she had a determination and grit about her that he was drawn to already, but he was not here for a romantic entanglement. He had a job to do, and he best keep that in mind rather than becoming caught up in her silky blonde hair or her captivating green eyes.

“So what made you choose this place?” Emma asked, nodding gratefully to Ariel as she placed a glass of ice-water before her.

Killian shrugged. “I work just beyond that dock, so it’s a convenient dining option when I only have an hour’s break for lunch. Besides, The Marina Cafe has some of the freshest, most delicious sea food I’ve ever tasted.”

Emma adorably scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know how people eat fish, really. It’s so...fishy.”

Killian laughed. “That’s precisely what fish should be, darling.”

“I guess,” she said with a shrug, “but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I’m glad to see there are some other options on the menu.”

“And what particular non-fishy entree have you in mind, Swan?”

“That’s a no brainer,” she said with a grin. “I’m gonna get the grilled cheese and onion rings anytime I see them on the menu. And before you say it, I know full well that I eat like a child.”

Killian laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of saying such a thing, although I might suggest the addition of a salad for healthiness’s sake.”

Emma scrunched her nose again, muttering “Rabbit food” under her breath.

The lunch proceeded rather pleasantly, though their conversation was rather limited as they ate. Killian felt his heart break as he watched her shovel food into her mouth as though she hadn’t eaten in a week. Perhaps it had been that long since her last proper meal. She deserved so much more. She deserved everything her heart desired--not merely because she was the lost princess of Misthaven; because he could see a beautiful soul shine forth from her.

Killian wanted to thrash all the unbearably stupid people who had failed to see her worth all her life, and more than anything--more even than bringing her home, more than helping her break the curse--he wanted to teach her that she was far more than anyone gave her credit for.

Emma dredged her final onion ring through her ketchup, and then chewed silently. As pleasant as the lunch had been, Killian knew he needed to move on to weightier topics, hopefully finding a way to persuade her to see him again.

“Now that your appetite is appeased, love, perhaps we’d best talk.”

She set the uneaten half of her last onion ring back on her plate and gave him a wary look. “About what?”

“About what brought you to such a desperate state as to attempt to steal a car,” he said, being careful to keep his expression neutral. Somehow he could tell that being either overly sympathetic or accusatory would cause Emma to shut down--and shut him out.

She shrugged, and the most oblivious person in the world would be able to tell her nonchalance was forced. “Not much to tell. Just your average hard luck story.”

Killian was quiet for a second, taking a bite of his parmesan crusted salmon and chewing thoroughly before swallowing. “Swan, I don’t think there’s such a thing as an ‘average hard luck story’. Everyone has their own tale to tell. I’ll not force you to share your confidences with me, of course, but sometimes it can help to share your burdens with a sympathetic ear.”

She was quiet for so long that Killian thought she’d refuse, but finally she gave a tiny nod and began speaking. “All my life, I’ve just been this--this _lost_ orphan girl who didn’t matter to anybody and didn’t think she ever would. Not even my own _parents_ cared about me enough to put me up for adoption. They just dropped me off at a diner.”

“Perhaps, love, there’s more to the story than you know,” Killian said, carefully. “Perhaps your parents had no choice. Perhaps they loved you enough to give you the best chance they could.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, if that were true why didn’t they ever come looking for me? What was so wrong with me that they could just throw me away like a broken toy?”

Killian felt a lump in his throat at the thought of the lost, lonely little girl who had been forced to grow up thinking such things, who didn’t know, couldn’t know, that her parents loved her so much it nearly killed them to give her up.

The initial revelation seemed to open the floodgates for Emma, and she told him of the heartbreak that was her entire twenty years of existence.

“And then, I thought I was finally on the right track, you know?” she said. “I had a job, an apartment. I didn’t have much, but I was getting by. But then I couldn’t pay my rent and I got evicted, and then Louie threatened to fire me, so I quit. Maybe--maybe he’s right. Maybe I _am_ nothing.”

Killian clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to storm out of the restaurant and plant his fist in this “Louie”’s face.

“He’s not,” Killian said through clenched teeth.

“What?”

“He’s not right, love,” Killian said. “You are most decidedly _not_ nothing. Love, that story you just told me--it’s the story of a survivor, a woman who was constantly beaten down by the vagaries of life, who was thwarted and hindered at every turn, but who through it all never lost her compassion, never became hard or bitter. It’s the story of a woman who I firmly believe could do anything she set her mind to. Far from nothing, Emma; you’re bloody brilliant, amazing.”

He saw the tears rush to her eyes at his effusive words, and she surreptitiously wiped them away. “Yeah, I wish a few other people saw me that way too.”

“They’re fools not to,” Killian said. “You need nothing more than a chance, and I’ve no doubt you could do great things.”

She shrugged, once again attempting to look nonchalant. “Yeah, well chances aren’t exactly overflowing for orphans.”

Killian didn’t know what made him do it, wouldn’t have ever dreamed of being so forward when he first sat down to lunch with her, but almost without his leave, the words came tumbling from his mouth. “I’ve got a spare room in my apartment,” he said. “Well, it’s really more of a loft than a spare room, but if you need a place to stay for a while, it’s yours.”

The wary look came into her eyes again. “I already told you I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

Killian could sense a bit of his charming rapscallion persona was in order. “Now love, there is only one of us who’s mentioned sex in any of our conversations, and it wasn’t me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the lady doth protest too much.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “You wish.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said with a laugh, “but nevertheless, my offer stands. You’re welcome to my loft while you get back on your feet. No strings attached.”

She seemed to consider it for a moment, but then shook her head. “Look, Killian, I’m grateful for your offer. I really am, but I mean, we barely know each other, and I’m more of a loner anyway.”

“Well, if you won’t take my offer of lodging, perhaps you would agree to the loan of my car,” he said.

“You wanna give me your car? You know, the one I just tried to _steal_?” she asked incredulously.

“Not _give_, love. _Loan_.”

“You’d trust me not to, you know, just take it and run?”

He nodded. “I do. You’re a good person, Emma Swan, and I know my faith in you will be justified.”

She looked as though she might cry, but finally she reached over and took his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome, and just know that the offer of my loft still stands should you change your mind.”

Killian watched her go ten minutes later, hoping he’d made the right call. One thing he knew. Prophecy or no prophecy, now that he’d gotten to know her, he wanted to see Emma Swan again.

Later that evening, just as Killian was considering going to bed, he heard a tentative knock at his door. Nothing could have prepared him for the way his heart leapt in his chest as he opened it to reveal a rather uncertain looking Emma.

“So that loft room,” she said by way of greeting. “I’ve been thinking about it. Is it still available?”

His smile lit up his entire face. “Of course it is.”

“I can’t pay you,” she said. “I mean after I find another job I will, of course, but right now, I barely have a hundred dollars to my name.”

He waved her concerns aside. “It’s no matter. We’ll discuss such things at a later date. For the moment, welcome home, love.”

_Notes:_

_\--I’m sorry it took me sooooooo long to update, but life has been crazy. Lots of family stuff going on (mostly good). I hope to do better at more frequent updates moving forward, but this whole year has been crazy, so I can’t make any guarantees._

_\--Up next: In flashbacks, Snow and Charming have a whirlwind romance and a wedding, and then we finally meet the story’s main protagonist, Rumplestiltskin, who hatches a new plan to try to return to power. In the present section, Emma and Killian get closer._


	6. The King of the Broken Kingdom

**Chapter 5: The King of the Broken Kingdom**

_Camelot, around 22 years ago_

Queen Guinevere stood at the window of her husband’s tower room looking out at her broken kingdom as the cooling autumn breeze made her belled sleeves flutter.

Her heart ached as she looked out at her beautiful Camelot, her home, once one of the greatest kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest. How had it come to this? How had it disintegrated into a place of fear and mistrust, of paranoia and retribution with such unbelievable swiftness?

Guinevere knew her husband, King Arthur, was to blame for some of it. Growing up as a commoner, only gaining the crown thanks to a twist of fate, he’d always felt a fair amount of inferiority, and this inferiority had driven him to more and more desperate, paranoid actions. His latest obsession was in finding the mighty sword Excalibur, and the obsession had threatened to consume him whole.

Until, that is, a far greater threat made his way onto Camelot’s sparkling shores.

Several months ago a new man had appeared at court calling himself Neal Baelfire. Guinevere had been immediately on her guard. This man, this Neal, had an air of cunning about him, an air of trickery and evil.

But Neal Baelfire also possessed something else--an uncanny ability to flatter King Arthur to the point that her husband was utterly put under his spell. Within a week, Arthur had made Baelfire his closest advisor and had taken his advice unquestioningly since.

This oily, silver-tongued worm had swiftly become the de-facto leader of Camelot while King Arthur merely sat upon his throne, compliant and quiet.

One day as Guinivere sat in her garden, she’d been joined by Sir Lancelot, knight of Arthur’s roundtable. Before the arrival of Neal Baelfire, Lancelot had been one of Arthur’s greatest friends and confidantes, and Guinevere’s heart ached to remember those halcyon days of peace and prosperity, for Lancelot was calm and steady. He had a wisdom and kindness beyond any man Guinevere had ever met. 

“What troubles my lady on such a beautiful day?” he’d asked her, taking a seat on the bench beside her.

“It’s Arthur,” she said, turning tortured eyes his way. “He’s fallen completely under the spell of Baelfire. What do we even know about this man?”

Lancelot had offered to quietly look into the new advisor within their country, and what he found sent icy tendrils of dread down Guinevere’s spine.

For Neal Baelfire was none other than the beloved son of the Dark One himself. Their danger was even greater than she’d previously believed; the threat to all that Camelot held dear had just risen astronomically.

Armed with this disturbing knowledge, Guinevere and Lancelot had gone to the king himself, trying desperately to open his eye to the danger that threatened their entire domain.

But their pleas fell on deaf ears, for Neal insisted on being present at the meeting and Arthur refused to dismiss him.

“Very well, my king,” Guinevere said, standing tall and sending a beseeching look toward her husband. “If I must have my say before your newest counselor, then so be it, but have my say I will. I have great concerns about matters in the kingdom.”

For a moment, Guinevere thought she’d get through to the king. He smiled at her and inclined his head for her to proceed. But before she was able, Neal cleared his throat.

“Is this truly necessary, my lord?” Neal asked gently. “Your queen is a delicate, fragile flower. We mustn’t burden our womenfolk with matters of state.”

Arthur considered it for a moment, and then turned toward Neal. “Perhaps, you are correct, Baelfire, but it can’t hurt to let the queen have her say.”

Guinevere couldn’t help shooting Neal a triumphant look, but her triumph was short lived. She’d no more than stated her belief that Neal was attempting to poison Arthur’s mind and take over the kingdom himself, when Neal scoffed and quickly got to his feet.

“Perhaps we’d do best to consider from whence the queen obtained her so called information,” he said, glaring down both Guinevere and Lancelot in turn. “Could it be that the knight, Sir Lancelot poured this calumny into her head?”

“Yes, your highness,” Lancelot stated calmly, stepping forward. “In response to a request made by Queen Guinevere, I did some research on Neal Baelfire and found the information your wife so succinctly gave you.”

Neal shook his head, his face falling in an assumed air of reluctance. “I didn’t want it to come to this, Your Majesty,” he said sorrowfully, “I truly did not, for I feel the news I have now to share will break your heart, but it appears now a matter of national security.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “What news?”

“I fear it is the worst news,” Arthur said, sending a triumphant smile Lancelot’s way, a smile that sent dread spiraling through Guinevere. “It seems your most trusted knight is attempting to cuckold you, my king. On more than one occasion, I’ve caught Sir Lancelot with Queen Guinevere. Oh, they’ve done nothing untoward in the public eye, of course, but their closeness spoke of an intimacy that goes far beyond what a man of honor should have with a married woman. There’s no doubt in my mind, what goes on behind closed doors is not lawful even to be spoken.”

Guinevere and Lancelot had both vociferously protested against the charges, of course, for they were blatantly false. She had great regard for Lancelot and found him to be an exceedingly handsome man. Perhaps if she wasn’t already wed things would be different, but as it was, she was a married woman and he was a man of honor. Any feelings the two of them might or might not have for each other were neither spoken nor acted upon by either party.

To Guinevere’s relief, Arthur had rejected the accusation, suggesting Neal had misunderstood what he’d seen.

And yet the damage was already done. Suspicion had been sown.

Now here, this morning, she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that covered her like a blanket. The king had sent her a formal summons to his chambers for an hour hence, and Guinevere feared the worst for what might await her when she arrived.

For last night had changed everything.

Yesterday had been her birthday, and as was their custom, the villagers had been invited into the outer courtyard for a party celebrating the occasion. Year in and year out, the party was a time for joy and merriment for all involved. Arthur and Guinevere provided their villagers with a lavish feast, with music and dancing. Guinevere had begun a tradition some five years ago of giving her villagers gifts upon her birthday. They were small tokens really, but they never failed to elicit delighted thanks from the hard working people who helped to make her kingdom as prosperous as it was.

Guinevere had begun the festivities in a rather morose mood. King Arthur had promised to join her in the celebrations this year. He’d promised to put aside his quest for the sword and spend time with his wife on the day celebrating her birth, but as the sun set and the party began, Arthur was nowhere to be found. Guinevere sat alone upon her bench, feeling a tear trace its way down her cheek. The bench dipped beside her, and Guinevere looked over to see Neal seated beside her.

“You are so alone, are you not, my queen?” he said softly, gently, almost tenderly, and it took everything in Guinevere not to recoil from him.

“I am not,” Guinevere said, hating the sound of tears in her voice. “I have an entire kingdom behind me.”

“And yet, I have their king behind me,” Neal said speculatively. “But we need not be at such an impasse, Your Majesty.”

Her brows furrowed as she sent him a questioning look.

“So fair, and yet so cold,” Baelfire murmured, cupping her face with his hand, the touch making her skin crawl. “Like the icy tendrils of winter before the spring thaw. But I’ve no doubt I can warm even your cold heart.”

Guinevere felt frozen in horror as she watched him lean closer, puckering his lips and closing his eyes. The feel of his fetid breath upon her face snapped her out of it, and Guinevere sprang to her feet. “Your words are poison!”

Neal scowled, getting quickly to his feet and advancing upon her. He grabbed her arms in a vice-like grip, and fear started coursing through Guinevere. “Poison they may be, but you _will_ be mine.”

Guinevere fought against his hold, kicking out, trying to hold him at bay, but he was too strong for her. What was she to do?

“I believe the lady refused your advances Baelfire.” Never had a voice been more welcome to Guinevere than Lancelot's at that moment. She looked up to see the knight’s sword pointed directly at Neal’s throat. Taking advantage of the distraction, she broke free and came to stand beside Lancelot.

“Perhaps you’d best not meddle in affairs that don’t concern you, knight,” Baelfire spat.

“The defense of the queen very much concerns me,” Lancelot said, sending a steely gaze upon his opponent. “I’ve sworn to protect both her and my king, and you threaten both. I suggest you slink away into whatever hole from which you slithered here.”

Neal looked from the sword to Lancelot, weighing his options, before finally stepping back and raising his hands in surrender. “You will pay for this,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Lancelot lowered his sword but did not sheathe it. “If so, it is a price I am willing to pay.”

Neal had indeed slinked away afterward and the remainder of the night had been rather enjoyable. Sir Lancelot had escorted her back to her party, where he presented her with an entire cart filled with Middlemist roses.

“From the king,” Lancelot said. “He sends his deepest regrets at being delayed, but he wishes his queen to have this token of his affection.”

Guinevere was no fool. She knew the offering had not come from her husband. She knew how he got when he was deep in his obsessions. Nothing and no one (save, perhaps for Neal Baelfire) could break through. The roses could have come from none but Lancelot himself, and Guinevere’s heart burst at the generosity of the good-hearted man before her. This night alone, he’d saved her from a fate worse than death at Neal’s hands, he’d given her a veritable garden of roses, and he’d given the credit to her husband.

A better, nobler man, Guinevere had never met.

And so she’d asked him to dance. He’d graciously accepted and they'd danced the night away, a look in his eyes that told her quite plainly that the feelings awakening for him in her heart were far from unrequited.

But when the dance came to an end, they both stepped away before anything more could come of it, neither of them willing to betray the man they both cared for.

It was a night Guinevere would never forget, and yet she couldn’t shake the nagging fear that her encounter with Neal at the start of it would have further consequences.

It was a fear that proved to be all too well founded, as she learned at the meeting King Arthur had requested.

She arrived at the meeting to find both Arthur and Baelfire already in attendance, thundering frowns on both their faces. When Sir Lancelot arrived only moments later, Arthur got to his feet, turning furious eyes upon his best friend.

“It has come to my attention, Sir. Lancelot du Lac, that you have betrayed me in thest vile way imaginable. You have begun an affair with my wife under my very nose. Therefore, I sentence you to be hereby banished from Camelot and all its surroundings forever.”

Guinevere had jumped immediately to Lancelot’s defense. Insisting nothing untoward had ever or would ever happen between them, insisting if anyone should be banished for betraying Arthur in ‘the most vile way imaginable’, it was Neal Baelfire, telling Arthur of his advisor forcing his own advances upon her.

But none of it was to any avail. Arthur was implacable, and that very day, her one ally and defender within Camelot’s castle was forcibly removed from her life forever.

Guinevere was well and truly alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, present day_

Killian knew he’d never forget the day Emma Swan, Princess of Misthaven moved into his apartment. To say it was a day that changed his life forever would be a far more melodramatic statement than even he would make.

But it was a day that changed his life forever.

He’d opened his door to find her there with nothing more than a single box of possessions, looking more than a little sheepish. He’d swear his heart stopped for a moment and then pounded.

“So that loft room,” she’d said hesitantly. “I was thinking. Is it still available?”

If anyone asked him, he’d have told them that the smile that seemed permanently affixed to his face from that moment on was due to nothing more than his relief that having her under the same roof, as it made his mission that much easier. It was the mission that mattered. The sudden awakening of his broken heart had no part in it.

For she was the princess, and he’d do best to remember it.

The first inkling he had that he might be very much in trouble came a week after she moved in. Killian came back to the loft after a particularly long and frustrating day at the harbor. He wanted nothing more than to order take out, collapse on his couch, and convince Emma to join him for the next installment of the Star Wars marathon she’d insisted he watch with her.

(She'd introduced him to the epic space tale the evening after she moved in.

“Are you kidding me, Killian?” she’d asked, her tone scandalized. “You’re telling me you’ve not only never seen Star Wars, but you’ve never even _heard_ of it? Where did you even come from?”

The question had made him distinctly uncomfortable, of course. He’d like nothing more than to tell her exactly where he--and she--was from, but he knew that she was not ready for such answers yet. He’d laughed it off, mumbling some nonsense about being busy with the navy, waggled his eyebrows and then flirted outrageously.

She’d tossed a throw pillow at him and then proceeded to open the Netflix--something Smee insisted he needed--made what she called her specialty (“My secret, Killian, is that I mix the milk duds in while the popcorn is still hot so they get all melty.”) and then settled in next to him to fix the obvious lack in his cinematic knowledge.)

Killian was still thinking about that day when he turned the key in his apartment door and then opened it to the distinct scent of something burning, the sound of Emma using language that would make most sailors blush, and the sight of her angrily stabbing a knife into his toaster. She was dressed casually in an oversized flannel shirt and sweats, and her hair was piled haphazardly on her head, but to Killian’s eyes, her beauty was not one whit dimmed.

“And what precisely has the toaster done, darling, that you should attempt to murder it?” he asked, shedding his leather coat, draping it neatly on the coat rack and then striding forward to rescue his appliance from the avenging angel before him.

She glared at him for a minute, and then she seemed to wilt, falling rather dramatically onto one of the kitchen stools. “I just--I wanted to do something nice for you,” she said. “I wanted to make you dinner, but nothing is working out right. _Nothing_. I don’t know how to make much more than breakfast foods, so I thought I’d make breakfast for dinner, but the bacon burned, and I couldn’t get your gas stove to work the right way, so the eggs are runny, and the toast--”

Here she stopped, pointing an accusatory finger at the toaster he was currently holding. “That absolute piece of _crap_ in your arms is _worthless_. First time I put the bread in, nothing. Then I put it down again, and just _look!_”

She picked up a blackened piece of bread, waving it in his face, the acrid scent of burning making his nose wrinkle.

“It’s no matter, Swan,” he said, setting the toaster down and then taking the toast from her hands and tossing it in the trash bin.

“But it _is_ a matter!” she said, the tears flooding her eyes. “It’s a huge matter! I can’t find a job, and now I can’t even cook _dinner_ to earn my keep around here. Serve me right if you tossed me to the curb. I’m _useless_.”

His heart had broken at the way her voice had become smaller and smaller until she’d nearly whispered the last word. Quickly, he’d closed the distance between them, enveloping her in a hug.

“You’ll find a job; you’ve only just begun looking, and I didn’t invite you to live here to be my maid or my short order cook, Swan,” he said, rubbing her back soothingly.

She pulled back enough to look critically up at his face. “Why _did_ you invite me here?”

How he wished he could tell her the full truth. _Because you’re the lost princess of Misthaven, daughter of Queen Snow, the former elf ,and King David. I’ve come to bring you home to save your people. _

“Because you and I, we understand each other,” he’d settled for. “You have the look in your eye of one who’s been left alone. I was lucky. I had someone come to my aid--my brother Liam--when my world fell apart. I thought perhaps to repay the favor by giving you the boost you need.”

She’d given him a watery smile, reaching up to swipe at her damp eyes.

“And one more thing,” he’d said giving her his best imitation of a stern look. “I believe I’ve already established that you’re anything but useless. Now what say we go out for dinner and then come back here to see what further adventures your Luke and Leia and Han Solo find themselves in?”

But as much as the burnt toast incident had awakened his heart, it was nothing to the incident that happened the following week.

Killian had gone off to work that morning as usual only to realize when he reached the harbor that he’d forgotten his talking phone. Still early for his shift, he’d returned home to retrieve it.

He’d walked into the apartment just as Emma, clad in nothing but a tiny towel, emerged from the flat’s only bathroom amid a cloud of vanilla-scented steam. He stopped in his tracks, his hand still on the doorknob, and his mouth going slack.

With her long legs and the tops of her creamy breasts on full display, her damp hair trailing behind her, she looked like a goddess. She was so beautiful, it almost hurt to look at her, and Killian felt his body reacting in spite of herself.

Emma was the first to move, clutching the towel more firmly to herself and averting her eyes as she moved toward the stairs to her bedroom. “Sorry, I...I didn’t realize you were still here.”

The spell broken, Killian realized he was staring in a most ungentlemanly manner and he swiftly turned his back. “The fault is mine, Swan,” he said, voice coming out rather more breathless and needy than he would have liked. “I had to return for my talking phone. Forgive my intrusion.”

That was the moment Killian realized he was more than just in trouble. He was lost. Try as he might to remind himself that she was the princess, that he was here merely to bring her home, that he must retain a professional distance from her, he knew it was useless.

For he had fallen in love with Emma Swan, and a part of him wished to forget about his mission entirely and simply remain here with his love.

But duty and honor and love of his people was so firmly ingrained in Killian Jones that he knew he mustn’t abandon the mission. He _mustn’t_.

Still, he was no closer now than when they’d first met to figuring out how to broach the subject of Emma’s beginnings with her.

As it happened, fate, and Emma’s own innate connection to her homeland, offered him the opportunity to take the first step toward making her believe.

It was an ordinary evening sometime in the middle of the second week after Emma moved in. A spring thunderstorm raged outside, but it was quite cozy and domestic inside. Emma sat upon the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she read a book. Killian sang idly to himself as he practiced his knots on the other side of the couch.

_Ú i vethed..._

_nâ i onnad._

_Si boe ú-dhanna._

_Ae ú-esteli, esteliach nad._

_Nâ boe ú i._

_Estelio han, estelio han, estelio,_

_estelio han, estelio veleth._

Killian didn’t even realize he’d sung in the Elvish Sindarin language of his people, until he looked up to see her staring at him with wide eyes.

“Where--where did you learn that language?” she asked, her eyes wide and unnerved.

Killian scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s the language of my homeland...the language of Misthaven.”

“But…” Emma said slowly, “that’s impossible!”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Pardon, love?”

“It’s just--never mind.”

Killian slid forward until he was next to her. “What troubles you, Swan? Is it the song? It means…”

“I know what it means!” she said. “Something about ‘this is not the end, something, something, something, if you trust nothing trust love.”

This time Killian’s eyes widened. “Swan, are you telling me you understand Sindarin?”

“That the language you were speaking?” she asked.

“Aye,” he said with a nod. “As I said, it’s the language of my homeland.”

“But that’s impossible!” Emma said again. “It’s not _real_. It was just a dream.”

Killian felt hope swell in his chest. Was it possible that Emma may somehow remember more than she knew? He took a deep breath and then let it out. “We seem to be going in circles love. Perhaps you’d best start at the beginning and tell me about this dream that features my mother tongue.”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

He shook his head. “Impossible.”

“Fine,” she said, getting to her feet and beginning to pace. “You see, I’ve been having these dreams for as long as I can remember. I’m in this really, really beautiful place full of trees and flowers and a fine, gentle mist. It’s always springtime and the sweet scent of flowers is always on the air. There’s this woman there, and it’s always the same woman. She’s pretty; has long dark brown hair and green eyes and a kind smile. Sometimes this guy is with her. He’s a blond, and he’s always smiling at me too. I never remember what exactly _happens_ in the dreams, but I always wake up feeling this incredible feeling of being _loved_, really, truly loved. And the woman in my dreams? Sometimes she sings me songs, and when she does, she always sings in that language you just used, but somehow I understand it. I think--I think she even sang that very song you were singing, but that’s _impossible_.”

Killian’s heart pounded. He didn’t know how it was possible, as she’d been sent away from the realm mere minutes after her birth, but there could be no question. Emma was describing her parents and Misthaven.

He was quiet for a moment, thinking furiously. How to begin showing her the truth without scaring her away?

“Perhaps it’s less impossible than you think, Swan,” he said slowly.

“What?”

“You’ve told me yourself you don’t remember much about your beginnings,” he said. “Is it possible that you could be from somewhere other than where you’ve always believed?”

“You mean, like your home? Your Mist-whatever-you-called-it?”

“Misthaven,” Killian corrected. “It would explain how you understand my language.”

“But,” Emma asked, taking a seat back on the couch, “if I was from some other country or whatever, how did I end up in Maine? Why did my parents just dump me along the road in some other country?”

“Perhaps there’s more to the story than you know.”

“Maybe,” she said skeptically.

Killian saw from the look in her eyes that she was more than a little unnerved with the conversation. He’d pushed as far as she was ready for this day at least, and he quickly turned the conversation to safer and much lighter topics.

Perhaps this mission would be less of an impossible task than he’d first believed.

_Notes:_

_\--I am soooooooo sorry for my long, long delay in updating. It’s just been such a busy time getting ready for Christmas, and then when I did get back into writing, it was so slow going. I’ve found I really need to take my time with this story, more than I’ve ever had to with any other story. I make no promises about the speed of updates in the future, but I will say I have a bit more time on my hands until we get close to Easter, so it’s my fervent hope to get the next chapter to you sooner._

_\--The song Killian was singing was “Evenstar” by Howard Shore from the LOTR movies. The translation is: “This is not the end… It is the beginning. You cannot falter. If you trust, trust nothing else. Trust this, trust this, trust. Trust this, trust love.”_


	7. Many Meetings

_Enchanted Forest, 22 years ago_

_David felt himself floating. He didn’t know where he was or how he got here, but he hardly cared. All around him was a feeling of peace, warmth, love. He felt weightless, like he could zoom through space with merely a thought. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was enveloped in the brightest light he’d ever seen, and yet somehow the light didn’t hurt his eyes. It was kind, benevolent. He didn’t know how light could be described as such, but somehow it was._

_Wherever he was, he was meant to be here._

_Slowly memory returned, and he remembered the battle he’d just fought. Exertion, fear, desperation, pain, pain like he’d never felt before. And then…and then he’d left the pain behind and traveled to the light._

_David marveled at the fact that he felt no pain, no fear, no negative emotion at all. Shouldn’t one feel more trepidation about death? But he found that death was not the looming evil the living believed it to be; it was merely a step into a reality both greater and more wondrous than life on earth._

_In the distance, he heard a voice. Her voice, and for the first time he felt a pang of regret. How he’d come to love Snow White! How he hated the thought he’d never see her again, for she was an immortal; she wouldn’t pass through this veil._

_He felt a strange sensation, like something had grabbed him and was trying to pull him back. Somehow, he instinctively knew that he could stay here if he chose, and the thought was tempting. _

_But the love he felt pulling him back was even more tempting. He knew there was more that he was meant to do with his life--more joy, more love, and yes more fighting and pain, but all of it would be worth it with the elf he’d come to realize was his true love by his side._

_And so he ceased all resistance to the pull._

David gasped, like a drowning man just returned to dry land, and he opened his eyes. Snow hovered over him, a desperate look in her eyes, and her soft hand on his cheek.

David reached up to cup her beloved face in his hands as he slowly sat up. “You saved me,” he murmured in awe.

A beatific smile graced her face as twin tear tracks made their way down her face. “Did you ever doubt I would?”

David grinned. “Truthfully, going into the light did give me pause.”

She laughed, and David felt a renewed surge of love. Leaning forward he captured her lips with his.

The kiss was sweet, but David could tell from the first moment his lips touched hers that there was something different about Snow. Somehow she was...dimmed, as though a portion of her light and life had been removed.

Pulling back, David looked at her quizzically. “Snow? What did you do?”

She looked aside, playing idly with the hem of her dress. “I saved you with True Love’s Kiss.”

It was the truth...but it wasn’t the full truth. He shook his head, gently turning her chin until she was looking at him again. “No, that’s not it. There’s something else. You’re changed somehow.”

Snow looked distinctly uncomfortable. “It’s nothing I wouldn’t do again and again if I could,” she prevaricated.

For the first time since waking, David noticed Merlin standing to the side, giving them privacy. “Merlin? What isn’t she telling me?”

The wizard gave David his signature enigmatic look. “The princess speaks the truth,” Merlin said. “She saved you with a True Love’s Kiss, but the act came at a substantial cost, for all magic comes with a price.”

David looked back at Snow. “What price did you pay, my love?”

Snow looked indecisive for another moment and then resigned. “The only way to save you was to give up my elven immortality.”

David pulled away as waves of dismay filled him. “No! I’m not worth it! Why would you give up such a vital part of yourself?”

Snow’s mouth pulled into a grim line. “Not worth it? Charming, you’re worth _everything_. You were dying--dead even. Nothing was too great a price to save you. _Nothing_. I’d do it again, a hundred times over if it meant we got to live out our life together.”

David felt tears come to his own eyes, and he let them spill over as he leaned forward and captured her lips once more, letting his love, his passion, his desperation, his gratitude shine through his kiss and the way he cradled her face in his hands.

Merlin cleared his throat, and David reluctantly pulled back.

“I hate to interrupt this interlude,” Merlin said, “but I think it’s best we keep our wits about us. After all the men who attacked you are still about. We’d best be prepared.”

The reminder was like a bucket of cold water poured over David’s head as the reason for his journey suddenly came back to mind.

“My mother!” he said, getting to his feet, “they threatened to--”

Snow put a comforting hand on his arm. “We’ll find her; make sure she’s safe. Merlin, can you transport us to her safe house like you transported us here?”

The wizard frowned. “I could, your highness, but I think it would be rather unwise. We don’t wish to alert our enemies to our presence any sooner than we must.”

Snow nodded resolutely. “Then lead on, Charming. Take us to your safe house. I rather look forward to meeting the woman who gave birth to the man I love.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They walked for what felt like hours. Snow took David’s hand, threading her fingers with his, needing the connection to her true love, knowing he needed the same. With every mile they walked, Snow could feel his tension increasing. She knew he worried about his mother and what they might find.

She prayed the brigands had merely given him the message in order to draw him out, attack him alone, but she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that it was worse than that.

She steeled herself for the possibility they wouldn’t like what they found at the “safe” house.

Snow squeezed David’s hand, letting him know she was with him, she was here for him whatever happened, whatever they found. He looked down at her, giving her a grateful smile as they continued walking.

_I’m here; whatever happens, I’ll be by your side._

_I know, and I couldn’t face any of this without you. Whatever comes, we’ll get through it together._

It amazed Snow how strong their True Love connection was. She knew what he was thinking and feeling instinctually, no words necessary, and she knew he felt the same.

Their situation was so new, so overwhelming, that Snow barely knew what she wanted from it. All she knew was that she never wanted to be parted from this man again.

“Shouldn’t be more than a few miles from here,” David said. “Let’s hope we’re not too late.”

“Indeed,” Merlin said gravely, knowingly.

There was something far from reassuring about the wizard.

They walked for another quarter of an hour, and then suddenly Merlin stopped in front of them, putting out his hand to halt them. “Someone’s out there, your majesty.”

Snow felt herself tense, reaching instinctively for her bow. Was she prepared for a confrontation? She was only just getting used to life as a mortal. What if she couldn’t defend herself and those she loved?

The three stood, tensed for battle, when suddenly a single knight, dressed in full chainmail armor crashed through the brush. He had smooth ebony skin and eyes the color of dark chocolate. He was handsome, but looked utterly desolate.

Snow relaxed immediately. The man was huge, a veritable leviathan, but she could tell immediately that he meant them no harm.

“Sir Lancelot?” Merlin asked after a moment. “What has happened to bring you to such a state?”

In a few short sentences, Lancelot laid out the entire sordid tale. With every sentence, Merlin looked more disturbed.

“The son of the Dark One?” Merlin asked when the tale was told.

“Aye,” Lancelot said gravely.

Merlin scowled fiercely, and then nodded decisively. “I must assure myself the sword is still safe and the Dark One is yet secured. Look for me on the third day.”

And with a wave of his hand he was gone.

For a moment, the three remaining merely looked after him, at a loss how to proceed, but finally David broke the silence. “I’m heartily sorry about your plight,” he said to the knight, “but I’m afraid we’re faced with a bit of a crisis ourselves.”

“I don’t ask you to put your quest aside on my behalf,” Lancelot said, “but perhaps we can be of help to each other. I’ll aid you in solving your crisis if you promise to return to Camelot with me. I cannot stand by while my king and the woman I love are in such grave danger.”

David nodded. “No man of honor could. I’ll agree to your deal, and happily.”

“As will I,” Snow agreed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first indication David had that something was quite significantly wrong was the dark, voluminous cloud of smoke billowing into the air from the direction of the safe house. That was too much smoke, far too much smoke, to be merely coming from his mother’s chimney.

Panic suddenly overtaking him, David took off at a sprint, Snow and Lancelot keeping pace with him. Breaking into the little clearing where the “safe” house sat, David’s heart sank. The house was engulfed in flames, but what was far more distressing was the woman lying awkwardly about twenty feet from the front door.

_Mother!_

David ran until it felt as though his lungs would explode, not stopping until he reached her. He felt his panic multiply at the sight of a bright, crimson stain on her chest and the acrid scent of blood mixing with smoke in the air.

Sliding to his knees, he reached for his mother. He breathed a momentary sigh of relief when her eyes opened, and she reached up a weak hand to cup his cheek. “My son….glad got to see...one last time…”

David shook his head, desperately looking back at his companions through his tears. “Please, Snow! You saved me. Can you help her?”

Snow slid to her knees beside him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I am so desperately sorry, Charming. I gave up my powers when I saved you.”

David got quickly to his feet. “Then I must go for a healer! There must be something--”

He was stopped by the touch of his mother’s hand on his pant leg. “Too late for that, my son,” she panted. “Stay with me…”

It went against every instinct David had to merely do _nothing_, but in his heart, he knew his mother spoke the truth. She was dying, and leaving her alone in her last moments was not a viable option. Closing his eyes in agony, he felt Snow slip her hand in his. He clung to her, taking the strength she offered as he slowly sat upon the ground and cradled his mother in his arms.

“Mother,” he choked out.

His mother stroked his face and then looked over at Snow, seated beside him. “Who is this?”

David looked at her, smiling through his tears. “This is Snow, mother, the woman I love. My savior and my joy.”

His mother smiled, looking between the two of them. “Happy….found...her.”

“As am I.”

For a moment, the only sound in the clearing was his mother’s labored breathing, and then she spoke again. “Only wish...got to see...married and settled.”

Snow suddenly got to her feet. “Lancelot, can a disgraced knight of the Round Table still perform weddings?”

Lancelot nodded. “Indeed he can. Do you need my services?”

David’s heart pounded at the look in her eyes--love, determination, trepidation, resolve. She took his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“We can do it, David,” she breathed. “We can marry right here and now; make your mother’s last wish come true.”

He was speechless. The thought of marrying her, being joined with her forever made the joy burst in his heart, growing and strengthening until it almost, almost banished the sorrow of his mother’s death. It was almost more than he could bear.

Snow took a step back, looking away, her cheeks reddening. “That is...that is if it’s what you want?”

David rushed to reassure her, gently raising her chin and letting every drop of his love for her shine through his eyes. “Oh my love, of course, _of course,_ it’s what I want! I would _love_ to marry you.”

The smile she gave him was so radiant it put the light of heaven to shame.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ruth smiled as she watched her only son, the light of her life wed his True Love. They’d thrown the wedding together hastily, moving to the edge of the lake, setting up a bower of flowers, propping her up so she could watch.

The wedding was simple but oh so beautiful. The look of love and happiness in David’s eyes, reflected back to him in Snow, did a mother’s heart good.

Ruth could barely feel the pain now, could barely feel anything; she knew she was slipping away, but she held on until the knight pronounced them husband and wife. As her son kissed his new wife, Ruth knew that her task as a mother was done. David would be fine.

Looking up, Ruth saw a light, bright, shining, warm. It was more beautiful than anything she’d ever known. With one last breath, she let go, surrendering to the love and peace that awaited her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, present day_

Emma stood at the window of the flat she shared with Killian, looking out at the hustle and bustle below. It was a beautiful morning, sun shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. Though it was a tiny town, it seemed to come alive in the mornings, and Emma loved the friendliness and small town feel. Was it possible that she’d finally found somewhere to belong?

Emma took a seat on the sofa and continued to people watch as she brought her mug to her lips and took a sip of the hot cocoa she’d woken up to this morning.

Sometimes it almost overwhelmed her how thoughtful Killian was. Nearly every morning, she woke up to the smell of her favorite beverage, prepared just the way she liked it, waiting for her on their kitchen island. She didn’t know how he did it, but without fail, he always seemed to time it perfectly so that it had cooled to the perfect temperature just as she emerged from her loft room, still bleary eyed from sleep.

This morning he’d left her a note pinned down with her mug.

_Swan,_

_I know you’ve been dispirited with your difficulties finding employment, but know that I believe in you. The perfect job is waiting out there for you, and I can’t wait to celebrate with you when you find it. I wish you a lovely day, and I’ll see you after work._

_~Killian~_

Emma felt a warmth steal through her as she remembered the note. She looked through her window in the direction of the harbor, and she wondered what he was doing right now. Was he having a good day? Did he--maybe--think about her sometimes?

Emma smiled, burying her face in her hands as she felt the butterflies dance in her stomach and her heart give a lurch. _Killian_. Even his name was beautiful.

She’d dreamed of him last night. It wasn’t like her weird, vivid dreams that almost felt real. It was just a regular old dream. She’d been walking in some sort of field or something and he’d come up beside her and taken her hand, linking their fingers together.

That’s all it was; simply the two of them walking hand in hand, but by the time she woke to the familiar scent of hot cocoa and cinnamon, she knew she could no longer deny what was happening inside her.

She had a crush on her roommate. She was a grown woman, yet she had a full-blown schoolgirl crush on Killian.

There was just so much to like about him. She liked _everything _about him--not the least of which being the fact that he was the most drop-dead gorgeous man she’d ever seen.

Emma laughed at herself as she took another sip of her cocoa. This was so unlike her. She didn’t _get_ crushes; she didn’t get real, genuine feelings for guys. Sure, she’d had her fair share of dates through the years, but none of them had ever gone beyond one-nighters. She’d never daydreamed about any of her dates the next day, never wondered what they were doing, never cared one way or another if they gave her another thought.

But Killian was different. Killian was special.

Not that she was ready to do anything about it.

Emma hadn’t lived twenty years as the orphan, the outcast, the person that everyone eventually left or discarded without learning how to protect her heart. Deep down she felt that Killian was different, that he wouldn’t just cast her aside like a toy that had lost its appeal, but she also knew that if he did, it would hurt far worse than most of her other abandonments.

Besides, what if he didn’t feel the same way about her? 

Every once in a while she’d catch a look on his face when he’d turn to her, a look that made her think she was not alone in her feelings, a look that took her breath away and made the color leap to her cheeks. A look that, to be honest, made her want to bound across the room and kiss the living daylights out of him.

But before she did so, she had to be sure, had to be one hundred percent positive that it wasn’t just wishful thinking on her part. Because she’d rather chew off her own arm than destroy the friendship that they had.

Taking a deep breath and pushing thoughts of her crush aside, Emma walked over to the kitchen counter and picked up her cell phone, scrolling through apps until she found the employment finder site she’d signed up for, hoping against hope that today was the day she found the job she’d been looking for.

She snorted as she saw an ad her old boss, Louie, had placed for her old job. Looks like he was finding it more difficult than he thought to replace her. Maybe “mediocre” waitresses were not as easy to find as he thought. The vindictive part of her wanted to stand up and cheer. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy.

She’d just let the app know that she very definitely was _not_ interested in applying for that particular job, when she heard it, a scraping at the apartment door.

Emma was immediately on high alert. Someone was trying to get into their apartment, and it wasn’t Killian. She knew the sound of his key in the lock, and what she was hearing most definitely wasn’t that. 

Adrenaline surging, Emma softly padded to the other side of the counter and grabbed one of their kitchen knives and then prepared herself for the coming confrontation.

After a bit more scratching and clicking, the lock gave and the door swung open. A smallish man with brown hair and a full brown beard stepped through, looking around shiftily.

She was on him before he’d fully stepped into the flat, knocking him to the ground, landing on top of him, holding the knife to his windpipe.

The man’s eyes rounded, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he slowly raised his empty hands. “Wait!” he pleaded, “don’t hurt me! I don’t mean no harm! I swear it!”

Emma’s inner lie detector told her he spoke the truth. She got to her feet, removing her knife from his throat but still holding it up protectively before her. She watched as the man got to his feet as well, still holding his hands up in surrender.

“Who are you?” she growled, “and why the hell are you breaking into my home?’

“It’s okay,” the man said, “I’m a friend of your boyfriend’s. Smee’s the name. Just stopped by to see him.”

“My boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he said, “you’re Emma, right? Killian’s talked about you. A lot.”

Emma felt her face flame. “He’s not...we’re not...we’re just roommates!”

Yes, in the back of her mind she did realize how ridiculous it was to get all flustered that _the man who had just broken into her home_ called her crush her boyfriend.

The man, _Smee_, smirked. “Uh-huh. Just roommates. Riiiiiight.”

Emma shook her head, taking a deep breath and letting it out. This was by far the most ridiculous conversation she’d had in months, and it was high time she take control of it again.

“Well whatever we are or aren’t to each other,” she said, narrowing her eyes, “that’s beside the point. If you’re Killian’s friend, what the hell are you doing breaking into his home?”

The man shrugged, walked in and sat on the sofa. “He never gave me a key.”

Emma growled. “So you decided to just...let yourself in? What are you doing here?”

Smee dropped his eyes. “You see, I kinda need help with something, and I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“Help with what?”

“Finding something,” he said. “My favorite red beanie to be precise. Thought about going to the police, but, you know, I don’t have the greatest track record with the law, and I doubt they’d help me.”

Emma dropped into the chair on the other side of the room. “You--you were going to go to the cops over a stupid _hat_ you lost?”

He frowned ferociously at her. “It’s not just a _hat!_ My grandma knitted it for me! Never go anywhere without it, and now it’s missing! Somebody stole it if you ask me.”

Emma stared at him incredulously. “So--someone stole your hat. What do you want Killian to do about it?”

“Help me find who took it, and then help me get it back.”

This conversation just kept going from weird to weirder, and yet--and yet Emma couldn’t help but feel sorry for the miserable little man. She also couldn’t deny her curiosity about what was so special about this hat.

Combine that with the fact that she thought she might go stir-crazy sitting around the apartment alone all day, and Emma ended up saying something even she couldn’t believe she was saying.

“I’m pretty good at finding things. I’ll help you.”

Three hours later, Emma returned to the loft, smile on her face and satisfaction coursing through her. Not only had she found Mr. Smee his beanie, she'd also found herself a job.

She'd started by having Smee retrace his steps to the last place he remembered having his hat--which proved to be far more difficult than it sounded.

“Let’s see,” he’d said, scratching his thoroughly beanie-less head, “I know I had it when I was at that one bar down by the docks. Not really sure which bar it was...oh no, wait! It wasn’t a bar. It was a seafood restaurant. No, that’s not right either. Gotta lay low from there for a while. I’ve dined and dashed too many times. Oh I remember! It was a frozen yogurt stand!”

This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

“How exactly do you confuse a frozen yogurt stand for either a bar or a seafood restaurant?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Can’t think without my beanie.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“Well, I guess the frozen yogurt stand is the place to start.”

They’d gone to said frozen yogurt stand, where Emma had felt thoroughly ridiculous asking the pimple-faced employee if he remembered seeing Smee’s knit hat. But amazingly, the inquiry yielded results.

“Yeah, I remember that,” the kid said. “I remember him reaching up to scratch his head and the hat falling off. I was about to yell at him that he forgot his hat, but then this other big guy picked it up, and I figured he was going to give it back to him.”

Smee surged forward, causing the employee to startle and take an instinctive step back. “You let someone steal my hat?!” he yelled.

Emma put a hand to Smee’s chest and pushed him back. “Easy, there. Assaulting a kid’s not going to get you your hat back any faster.”

She turned back to the employee and asked if he remembered anything else about the guy who’d taken the hat. Here again the kid was surprisingly helpful.

“Yeah, he got into a pickup truck. It had this weird logo on it. Tiny Magic Beans or something like that. Seemed weird. That’s why I remembered it.”

This hot tip ended up leading Emma and Smee to a place called Tiny’s Magical Bean Farm, a farm at the edge of town that grew nothing but different varieties of beans. It was upon approaching the farmstand that Emma hit pay dirt.

The man behind the counter at the farm stand, who was quite possibly the largest man Emma had ever seen, wore a nametag that nonsensically proclaimed him to be “Tiny”, but what caught her attention even more than the ridiculous misnomer was the far-too-small red beanie that he had plopped on his head.

Emma was glad she’d left Smee to search the bean fields. Last thing she needed was her ridiculous client pissing off Tiny over there and starting a fight.

“Hi there!” the giant of a man said with the biggest, friendliest smile Emma had ever seen. “Can I help you with something? We’ve got a special on lima beans today.”

Emma couldn’t help but smile back, falling instantly at ease. This man may be a giant, but it was clear already that he was a big teddy bear at heart.

“I’m actually not here for the beans,” Emma said.

Tiny shrugged. “Sorry, but we don’t see anything else. Don’t know what else I could help you with.”

“I was actually just wondering where you got that,” Emma pointed to the beanie. “You see, I’ve been trying to track down one just like it.”

A few minutes of conversation confirmed that the hat Tiny wore was indeed the beanie Smee had lost earlier that day. Tiny was something of a collector of anything and everything he found that caught his fancy. He’d come across the beanie outside his favorite frozen yogurt stand and thought it was a shame it had been discarded, so he’d taken it home himself.

Emma had explained that the hat actually belonged to her client and the not-so-tiny gentle giant had given it back to her immediately, protesting that he had no idea it belonged to someone and he’d never have taken it if he had known.

Mr. Smee had been overjoyed to be reunited with his hat, and had immediately forgiven Tiny, even striking up what looked to be the start of a beautiful friendship with him.

Emma smiled to herself as she started to turn back toward her yellow bug. It felt _so good_ to have accomplished something today! 

“Hey Miss Emma!” Tiny said as she turned away. “You’re really good at this, finding people and things and stuff.”

“Thanks, Tiny,” she said with a gentle smile.

He looked at her speculatively. “I don’t know if you’re interested, but I have this friend who’s helped me before--I had this harp that I wanted to learn how to play, but one of my brothers stole it. He skipped his bail after I got him arrested, and my friend helped me find him. Anyway, she works in bail bonds, and last I heard she was looking to expand her business. Asked me to look out for anybody I thought might be a good addition to her team. I could give you her number if you’re interested.”

Emma’s heart had lept in her chest, the prospect of not only finding a job, but finding a job doing something she was genuinely good at exciting her to her very toes. She’d eagerly accepted the phone number, and proceeded to take out her cell phone and start dialing on the spot.

And so it was that Emma returned to her apartment late that afternoon as the newest employee of Cleo’s Bail Bonds.

“Killian!” she said, stepping through the door and spotting his leather coat placed neatly on the coat rack. “You’ll never guess what happened to me today!”

Tonight they’d celebrate. And who knows? Now that she was putting down real, genuine roots, maybe one day she’d even find the courage to let down her walls and explore that crush she had.

For possibly the first time she could remember, life was really, truly _good_.

_Notes:_

_\--Thanks for your patience as it always takes me basically 3 ½ years to write every new chapter!_

_\--Not too many allusions to LOTR in this chapter, but I’ll make up for it in the next one. I’m really looking forward to the next chapter, guys! Not only will Neal get his comeuppance in the past, but the CS slow burn finally takes a substantial step forward! (And since I originally planned to have all of that in this chapter before deciding I didn’t want it to be forever long, the good news is that I have chapter 7 fully plotted and ready to write. Fingers crossed I’ll be able to update much more quickly this time!)_


	8. The Mending of the Broken Kingdom

_The Enchanted Forest, many years ago_

They buried Ruth Nolan beside the giant oak that sat near the river. The place was beautiful and peaceful, and David thought his mother would have whiled away many afternoons here had she been able to live in the safe house as planned.

Snow White took her husband’s hand, threading their fingers and trying in whatever way she could to give him strength as his mother’s body was laid to rest as the last rays of the evening sun began to disappear over the riverbank. She saw him wipe away tears as Lancelot said a few words over the grave and then shoveled the earth over her make-shift casket.

His heart was broken, she knew, she could feel it, but he also seemed to be strangely at peace. For his sake she was glad.

When the last shovel of dirt had been replaced and the afternoon gave way to twilight, it was time to decide on their next course of action.

“I am most heartily sorry for your loss,” Lancelot said in a low voice as he put a supportive hand on David’s shoulder. “I wish I’d arrived in time to save her.”

David wiped away another tear. “There was nothing you could have done; nothing any of us could have done. Given the state we found her in, I suspect the brigands timed their attack on my mother to coincide with their attack on myself. Thank you all the same for the offer of your help.”

“You are most welcome,” Lancelot said with a bow.

David took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking down at his mother’s final resting place before nodding and looking back at Lancelot, determination in his eyes. “We made a deal, and I intend to fulfill my part of it. Shall we begin our journey to Camelot? Gods willing, we’ll be more successful in our quest there.”

“Indeed,” Lancelot said. “Any outcome save the categorical defeat of Neal Baelfire and the salvation of my kingdom is unthinkable to me. That being said, it is a little more than a day’s journey to the castle of Camelot, and we’ll not do my people any favors by arriving exhausted. If we can secure shelter, I propose we rest for the night and start fresh for our journey in the morning. It is, after all, your wedding night. You needn’t spend it trudging through the forest with a knight.”

Snow felt her cheeks redden at the mention of her wedding night, and her nerves flared to life. As the princess of Misthaven, she’d lived a rather sheltered life. While she’d entertained a few chaste kisses from suitors, she’d never shared a bed with a man, and the thought that she’d do so tonight with her husband, her true love, was somehow exciting, intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

She felt David squeeze her hand, and she looked up to see a look of pure love and gentleness on his face. She knew what he was thinking, could feel it in his gaze.

_We’ve no need to proceed any further than you’re comfortable tonight. I’m content to wait until you’re ready._

Her heart turned over at his chivalry and care for her. His reassurances calmed the last shreds of her apprehensions. She loved this man and she wanted, ached, to be with him in every way a wife was with her husband.

Lancelot gently cleared his throat, and Snow started, realizing she’d yet to reply to his previous statement.

“Of course,” she said, voice slightly breathless. “My family’s summer castle is little more than a mile from here. We keep but a bare bones staff at the castle when we’re not there, but they will be sufficient to prepare us a repast and bed us down for the night.”

They took their time walking to the summer palace, Snow and David ahead, while Lancelot walked several paces behind to allow the newlyweds a bit of privacy.

They’d only just walked across the drawbridge and entered the inner bailey, when Snow was greeted by a most welcome surprise--her lady’s maid Johanna stood smiling before her. Gently extracting herself from her husband’s hand, Snow rushed forward, enveloping the matronly woman in a hug.

“How are you here?” Snow asked, laughing. “How did you know to come to me?”

“Merlin,” Johanna said simply. “He arrived at the castle this afternoon, spouting vague warnings about the dagger and the Dark One, and other such nonsense, and then he sent me here, saying you might have need of me tonight.”

“We could have managed if need be,” Snow said, “but I’m glad you’re here with us!”

The events of the afternoon and the events that led to Lancelot joining their company were explained over a light dinner, and before Snow knew it, Johanna was whisking her away to prepare her for bed.

“The wedding night is quite a pivotal moment for a young bride,” Johanna said with a knowing grin. “I expect you’ve some nerves about tonight?”

Snow’s heart pounded at the reminder of what was about to occur. “Yes, nerves, but anticipation as well.”

Johanna nodded. “Do you have any questions about what to expect?”

Snow felt her face flame again. “No. Mother explained it all to me.”

Johanna gave her a quick hug. “Don’t you worry, my lamb. Your Charming is a good man, and I’ve never seen such love in someone’s eyes as I saw in his when he looked at you. I’ve no doubt you will have many blissfully happy years together. Enjoy this time with him, put all cares aside and simply delight in each other.”

There was a quick tap at the door, and then David was there looking a bit unsure of himself. At the sight of him, all her nerves fled, and she was left with nothing but her love and desire for him. She opened her arms, and he rushed to her as Johanna quietly left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

Taking her face in his hands, David kissed her, his lips on hers both gentle and passionate. Leading her to the chaise before the fire, they shared several more long, drugging kisses, before pulling back for air.

“You have no idea what it’s meant to have you with me today Snow,” he said, voice soft and tender. “This day has been filled with so many emotions, so many life-changing moments, and through it all, having you beside me has kept me grounded.”

Snow leaned forward and kissed him gently before looking into his eyes. “I have loved you from the moment I clapped eyes on you.”

“And I will love you to my last breath,” David said, returning her kiss with another long, slow one of his own. 

“Could we perhaps delay that last breath for several more years?” Snow asked with a laugh. “I’ve rather had enough of you dying or almost dying to last me several decades.”

David laughed with her, caressing her face. “Now that I have you as my wife,” he murmured, “I have no intention of going into the light anytime soon.”

Snow pulled him into a hug. “I’m so sorry about your mother, Charming. If there was anything I could have done--”

“I know,” he reassured, “but it was her time. Snow, I’ve seen what awaits us on the other side, and it’s beautiful. I’ve come to realize that death isn’t something to fear. Instead it’s merely the next step into a new life. I know my mother’s at peace, and that’s all I can ask.”

“Even so, her absence will weigh heavy on your heart.”

A single tear tracked its way down his cheek, and Snow leaned forward and kissed it away. “You’re right,” he said, his voice somewhat choked, “but I have faith that I will see her again one day.”

They were silent for a moment, holding each other close, taking comfort from each other. Finally, David got to his feet and offered her his hand. She took it, letting him lead her over to the massive four-poster bed in the center of the room.

“But it is our wedding night. I think it’s time we put aside topics of sadness and death. I have far more important things to discuss with you.”

She grinned up at him, feeling her anticipation rise at the look in his eyes. “You wish to talk about it, Charming? That sounds rather...unfulfilling.”

He surged forward, kissing her passionately, letting the momentum propel them forward until they lay together on the bed, him resting on his elbows on either side of her head as he kissed his way down the column of her neck. “Who said the conversation had to be verbal?” he asked between kisses.

She giggled, taking his face in her hands and pulling him down for another long kiss as she worked at the buttons on his shirt. “Who indeed?”

And then there were no more words exchanged until long into the night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lancelot paced the stone corridor before David and Snow’s bedroom the next morning just as the first rays of the sun were starting to paint the sky. He didn’t wish to disturb the newlyweds but he was antsy at the thought of any further delay. It had been more than a week since he’d been banished from court, and he shuddered to think what Baelfire might have done to his kingdom in that time.

What he might have done to Guinevere...well that was something Lancelot refused to even consider, lest the fear drive him mad. He needed his wits about him if he was to come to her rescue.

Outside a nearby window, a zealous whippoorwill saluted the morning, and it startled Lancelot into action. He didn’t wish to disturb Snow and David, but he could not wait another moment. He knocked firmly on the door and waited as patiently as he could as he heard rustling sounds. 

David opened the door, his clothing of the night before hastily thrown on. “Is something wrong? Have the attackers returned?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Lancelot hastened to reassure. “I apologize for my intrusion, but I find myself filled with anxiety about the state of my kingdom this morning. I’d hoped to start our journey as early as possible.”

“Of course,” David said. “Give us a quarter of an hour to prepare ourselves for the day, and we’ll meet you in the great hall for a quick breakfast, and then we’ll be on our way.”

True to their word, within fifteen minutes, David and Snow walked hand in hand into the hall and sat side by side before the light meal of bread and cheese and fruit a servant set before them. Lancelot smiled at the joy and love that radiated from the two of them in the afterglow of their wedding night.

The thought brought him a slight pang as well, though. He knew he’d never experience a similar state of bliss. The woman he loved was not his for the taking.

No matter. So long as he could save her from the very real danger that beset her, as long as he could be near her and guard her from other future danger, he would be content.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and then the three of them were off, laden with Lammas bread for the journey, before the sunrise was complete.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As they made their way toward the castle the next morning, the three of them tossed around various ideas about how they should approach their less-than-ideal situation, but no plan they came up with seemed sufficient to the challenges ahead. The uncomfortable reality was that they were sadly outmanned. 

One thing was for sure; they’d fail before they even began if they attempted to enter outright with Lancelot in tow. Their only hope was to maintain the element of surprise. To that end, they decided to split up.

Quietly so as to attract as little attention as possible, Lancelot made his way to the back entrance of the outer bailey. He knew it was Sir Galahad’s post in the early mornings, and Galahad was one of the handful of knights he knew with absolute certainty was still loyal to the king as he should be and to Camelot.

It was apparent almost immediately, however, that something was off. When he approached the door, the first thing Lancelot noticed was a strange shimmering in the air like nothing he’d ever seen. The second was the fact that Sir Percival was looking at him with wide, almost vacant eyes.

“Who goes there?” Sir Percival barked out when he saw motion on his periphery.

“Lancelot,” he called out, stepping into the light and making himself known. “Please! I must enter with all haste!”

Sir Percival turned his disconcertingly vacant stare Lancelot’s way. “You have been banished,” he said in a voice entirely devoid of emotion. “You are no longer welcome here. Leave these premises immediately or you will be executed.”

Lancelot narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong? Why are you acting in this way?”

Sir Percival merely repeated himself, all in the same dispassionate, emotion-less tone. 

Something was very, very wrong here, but it was clear their plan as it stood would need to be altered. If Neal had gotten even to Sir Percival, the most valiant knight of the Round Table, there would be no sneaking in for Lancelot.

He’d just rounded the castle and started back to where Snow and Charming waited in the woods when one of the most welcome sights he’d ever seen met his eyes. Merlin himself strode toward them, staff in hand.

_Look for me on the third day_.

Finally, things were beginning to look up.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Merlin walked determinedly toward the newlyweds and the disgraced knight in the woods. After leaving the small band three days hence, he’d gone to Misthaven straight away. He’d first determined that Excalibur was indeed safely tucked away under a glamour spell where he’d left it. That alone made him breathe easier. Whatever it was the Dark One was planning with his son, it could be dealt with as long as the sword was still secure.

Afterwards, Merlin retrieved his staff and then made his way to the Dark One’s prison to ensure their mortal enemy himself was still safely locked away. When he was satisfied all was secure, he made his way to Camelot.

Merlin looked down at his staff as he walked the remaining steps toward his companions. To one who knew no better, it looked like nothing extraordinary. It was an old, gnarled stick with nothing to recommend it.

But Merlin knew better, for this staff had been fashioned of the wood of the very tree where he’d been imprisoned for hundreds of years before breaking free at Arthur’s coronation. This tree had not only imprisoned him, it had absorbed his magic through all the lonely years of his captivity. As such, it was perfectly suited as a lightning rod of sorts, a way to focus his magic and strengthen its effects. He didn’t know what he would find at Camelot, but he knew their success here was of such great importance he could leave nothing to chance.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Neal smiled to himself as he sat upon a throne to the king’s left. His father would reward him handsomely. He’d been more successful than he could have possibly dreamed going into this venture. Not only had he subdued the king and all his remaining knights, but thanks to a bit of quick thinking on his part, Camelot itself was officially his for the taking.

Neal patted the small pouch attached to his waist, grateful for his foresight in gathering it’s contents before he’d approached Camelot. It was working it’s magic better than he could have possibly imagined.

Glancing over at the woman seated to Arthur’s right, Neal nearly rubbed his hands together in glee. It had worked its magic on Guinevere as well. She looked on him with empty, vacant eyes, all resistance effectively drained from her. All things considered, he’d prefer her to look on him with the kind of love and devotion she’d bestowed on Lancelot, but he’d take what he could get. At least this way, she’d no longer resist him.

With her will to rebuff his advances taken away, he would finally, finally get everything he wanted. Tonight would be the night. Tonight he’d go to her chambers and make her his.

The porter interrupted his lurid musings by opening the great hall door.

“Your highness,” the man said, addressing Arthur, “Princess Snow White of Misthaven, her Prince Consort David Nolan, and the sorcerer Merlin to see you.”

Neal frowned. He had no idea what these people were doing here, but he was absolutely certain it could bode nothing good for him or his plan.

“They are not welcome here,” Neal said, leaning over to speak quietly into Arthur’s ear. “Merlin is but a herald of woe.”

The king nodded before turning back to the guests. “You are not welcome here.”

Merlin, who led the small group, frowned, looking with suspicious eyes from one member of the royal assembly to another. “Oh Arthur, how you’ve disappointed me.”

“You are not welcome here,” Arthur merely repeated.

Merlin narrowed his eyes further, sending a contemptuous glare at Neal. “The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Arthur, king.”

“Why should I welcome you, Merlin of Misthaven?”

“A just question, my liege,” Neal said, nodding sycophantically, watching Arthur carefully.

The king still looked fully compliant, but now was not the time to take chances. Neal surreptitiously took a pinch of the sand in his bag and tossed it toward Arthur. He knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he saw Merlin’s eyes widen in understanding. He must take control of this situation _now_, before Merlin was able to gain a foothold.

“Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear,” Neal said, stepping toward the newcomers. “Ill news is an ill guest.”

“Be silent!” Merlin growled. “Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth! I have not come to this hall to bandy crooked words with a witless worm.”

Neal stepped back in horror as Merlin opened his cloak and pulled forth his staff.

“His staff!” he said to the knights guarding the hall. “I told you to take his staff if he should ever appear!”

Chaos broke out around the hall. Arthur’s knights stepping up to apprehend the newcomers, and Snow and David pulling out their weapons to defend against the attack. Neal watched in consternation as Sir Percival attacked Snow, and David plunged his sword through the knight’s heart.

Through it all, Merlin advanced, unperturbed by the chaos around him. “Arthur, son of Uther, too long have you sat in the shadows. I release you from this spell.”

At the sound of Merlin’s words, the fighting around the hall stopped, and all seemed to watch with baited breath as Merlin raised his staff, closed his eyes, and pointed it toward Arthur.

“No!” Neal screamed as slowly but surely long tendrils of the Sands of Avalon that he’d been using to control the kingdom seeped from the king, from Queen Guinevere, indeed from everyone around the hall.

Neal leaped forward to stop Merlin...somehow, he wasn’t entirely sure how...but before he had the chance, his momentum was stopped with Sir Lancelot’s fist making solid contact with his face. _When had Lancelot arrived?! _Neal groaned as he fell to the ground and then felt Lancelot’s boot on his chest. “I would stay down if I were you.”

Merlin continued until the last grain of the sands had been sucked from Camelot. Neal watched in horror as everyone shook their heads, coming out of their stupefaction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For a moment the hall was silent as royals and knights and servants alike tried to make sense of what had happened to them.

Arthur shook his head and then glared at Neal. “Seize him!”

The shout was enough to break the hall free of their stupor and Lancelot watched as everything seemed to happen at once--Guinevere getting to her feet and looking around, as though for a weapon, his fellow knights dragging Neal Baelfire to his feet, Neal himself breaking free, Arthur advancing on him, the others in the hall rushing toward the drama with howls of rage.

“Silence!” Merlin bellowed, striking his staff against the floor, producing an energy field that seemed to stop everyone in their tracks.

Merlin pointed toward Neal with his staff. “Neal Baelfire, son of Rumplestiltskin, your reign of terror is at an end.”

Neal leaned back against the wall smirking up at the wizard. “Yeah? Your threats don’t frighten me, Merlin. As a hero, I can be assured you won’t kill me.”

Merlin’s face barely changed, but a shiver went down Lancelot’s spine at the intensity of his loathing as he looked upon the Dark One’s son. It was as though Merlin looked upon a disgusting insect that it was beneath him even to crush under his boot.

Slowly, Merlin raised his staff toward Neal, and the Dark One’s son went suddenly rigid as invisible bands wrapped themselves around his body from shoulder to toe.

“You are correct,” Merlin said in a soft, cold voice. “I won’t kill you this day, but within the hour I suspect you’ll wish I had.”

The first tendrils of fear reached Neal’s eyes. “Wh-what are you going to do to me?”

“Only what you deserve,” Merlin said, advancing on him. “You will be reunited with your father in his impregnable cell, and there you will remain.”

At that, all color drained from Neal’s face.

“I suspect the Dark One will be most displeased when he hears of your failure, and you’ll have the rest of your miserable life to feel the effects of that displeasure.”

“No!” Neal shrieked, fighting uselessly against the magical bands that held him as Merlin pouffed them away in a cloud of purple smoke, all that remained, Neal’s bloody poinard as it clattered to the stone floor.

_Neal’s bloody poinard_? _Why was it covered in blood?!_

The hall had fallen silent once more as Merlin transported Neal to his justly deserved punishment, but suddenly Arthur slunk to the floor, and Lancelot looked on in horror as a crimson stain spread in an ever expanding circle from his chest. Lancelot leaped forward to catch his king and friend, but Guinevere reached him first, cradling his body to her chest.

“I….was not….good,” Arthur said haltingly, looking up at his wife.

“Don’t try to speak,” she replied as tears started in her eyes and began pouring down her face.

Arthur looked from Guinevere to Lancelot and then back again. “Weak…” he continued. “Not...ruler Camelot...deserved.”

“Your majesty,” Lancelot said, “there is still time…”

“No,” Arthur said forcefully. “Feel life...draining...not much time.”

Guinevere held him more tightly to her, rocking him slightly.

“Not...husband you...deserved, but...loved you...to last breath,” Arthur said, weakly raising his hand. Guinevere took it in hers, bringing it to her lips.

“I love you too, Arthur,” she said in a voice thick with tears. “I always have.”

Arthur smiled weakly, and then turned to look at Lancelot. “Take care of her.”

Lancelot looked up at the woman he loved more than his own life and then back at his dying king. “You have my word, your majesty. No harm will come to her while there is yet breath in my body.”

Arthur nodded and then glanced at both of them. “Rule...together. Mend...broken kingdom. Better than I.”

Arthur closed his eyes and breathed his last.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, present day_

Killian pushed aside the curtain and peered out the window of his apartment for the fifth time in as many minutes. His heart plummeted as yet again he saw nothing but an empty street, conspicuously free of Swan’s (well...his, if one was to split hairs) yellow bug.

He began pacing as scenarios began playing themselves out in his mind, each one more horrible and unimaginable as the next. He knew she could take care of herself; he _knew_ she could, and he trusted her to do so, but she’d hardly been thinking clearly when she left the apartment tonight, and if the bastard did _anything_ to her in a moment of inattention….

The possibility was unimaginable.

Killian turned on the television and mindlessly flipped through channels looking for something, anything, to take his mind off of how late his roommate was in returning from her “date”.

Two weeks ago, Emma had returned to the apartment, smile wider than he’d ever seen her don and he’d smiled back at her; couldn’t have helped it if he wanted to. Her joy was infectious, and it was one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

“Tell me, Swan,” he said, patting the seat on the couch next to him, “what has you looking like the cat that caught the canary?”

She plopped down next to him, bouncing a bit in her exuberance. “Killian, I got a job!”

He reached over and gave her a quick one-armed hug. “Well then, congratulations are in order! How exactly did this come about?”

She’d gone on to explain (animatedly) about her encounter with Smee, her search for his missing beanie, Tiny’s tip, and her very successful meeting with Cleo.

“So…” he said carefully, “you’ll be a bounty hunter?”

“Bail bondsman--woman--whatever, but same basic idea,” she said. “Cleo bails people out, and when they don’t pay their bail, well that’s when I step in, hunt them down, and drag their sorry asses back to jail.”

“It sounds...dangerous,” he said, striving to make his voice neutral. He knew she was a tough lass. He knew she was fully capable of handling herself in whatever situation she might find herself in, but the profession was bound to come with injuries and threats. He hated to think of her suffering them.

She narrowed her eyes. He must have been less successful as he’d hoped at covering his trepidation.

“Killian, I can take care of myself,” she said, leaning away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Oh aye,” he agreed readily, nodding. “I know you can love. I’ve yet to see you fail at anything you’ve set your mind to.”

That clearly mollified her, if the way her eyes softened was any indication. “If you believe in me, then why did you sound like you’d rather I did anything else as a profession.”

He took a deep breath and let it out. “I do believe in you, Emma, and the miscreants of this fair burg don’t stand a chance against you. I suppose I just care about you and would hate to see you get hurt.”

She softened even further at that and even reached over to take his hand. “Don’t worry, Killian, I’m not going to take any chances or do anything stupid. I’ll practice all the safety precautions and keep pepper spray with me and all of that.”

With an effort of will, he cleared the worry from his face, even if he couldn’t completely banish it from his mind. With her enthusiasm and excitement so great, how could he possibly do anything but support her?

“Well, never mind that now,” he said, getting to his feet and offering her his hand to help her do the same. “As I said, congratulations are in order. I have a bottle of rum perfect for the occasion.”

Emma had thrown herself into her work after that, enjoying the chase, enjoying working out the mystery of where the bail jumper might have gone and how best to apprehend him. She’d only just begun, relatively speaking, but already she was building a name for herself

He was proud of her. She was truly one of the most incredible people he’d ever met in his long, long life.

And if there’d ever been any question before, now it was gone. He was totally, completely and irreversibly in love with Emma Swan. What that meant for his mission, for the welfare of his home and people, he didn’t know. He was no less committed to bringing her home to fulfill her destiny, but he’d be by her side every step of the way.

By all accounts, Emma was incredible at her new job. She was tough, she was smart, and she had excellent instincts. She could also read people better than just about anyone he’d ever met.

“I’m pretty good at telling when someone is lying to me,” she’d told him one day. She’d called it her “superpower”.

To say he didn’t feel any anxiety when she was out chasing the worst of the worst miscreants in the city would have been a lie, but his faith in her abilities mitigated that anxiety to a large extent.

At least it had until tonight.

He’d returned from work to see her sitting ramrod straight before her laptop, brows furrowed and a fierce scowl on her face.

“Having trouble locating your skp, Swan?” he’d asked as he walked into the kitchen for a bottle of water.

She looked over at him, and her eyes blazed with barely concealed fury. “Not at all,” she said. “This absolute son of a bitch was almost too easy to track down.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

She stood up and started pacing. “This total _douche_ has a wife and family he just walked out on--but not before racking up some major gambling debt and a handful of domestic abuse charges.”

Killian winced. 

“I met with his family earlier, and it killed me, Killian,” she said, and for a brief moment her fury morphed into sadness. “The wife bailed him out, and then he ran again. The kids just want their daddy home. You have no idea how much I look forward to kicking his ass.”

“Swan,” he said slowly, feeling a sliver of dread burrow into his chest, “I understand the sentiment, believe me I do. A man who would mistreat and abandon his family in such a way must necessarily hit close to home for you…”

She stopped before him, crossing her arms and glaring. “This isn’t about me, Killian! This is about his family.”

“Aye,” he said, placing his hands on her upper arms, “it is about the arse you’re chasing, but clearly it’s bringing up a lot of emotions in you as well.”

She shook herself free of his touch and started pacing again. “What if it is? Am I not allowed to have emotions?”

Killian blew out his breath in frustration. “Of course you are, but you’ll do no one any good going off half cocked! If you let your anger rule you, you’ll make mistakes, and those mistakes could get you hurt or killed!”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Killian Jones,” she said, getting in his face. “This is _my_ life, _my_ career, and I decide how to live it!”

“I know that!” he said, his voice raising in spite of himself. “I’m not asking you to stop living your life, I’m asking you to be smart about it!”

She looked like she wanted to say more, but after a moment she brushed past him. “Whatever. I have to go get ready for my date with the asshole.”

“Your...date?”

“Yeah, she said from the bathroom where she’d opened her makeup back and started rummaging around inside. “Cleo’s been suggesting I start trying out a honey trap. You know, get douches to take me on dates, then nail them. And not in the fun way.”

This was a bad idea; Killian knew it was, but what could he do? As she said it was her life, and she had every right to live it as she chose.

His unease increased all the more when she walked out of her room half an hour later in one of the sexiest red dresses he’d ever seen, her hair hair curled, her make up flawless, and her stiletto heels the stuff of men’s fevered dreams.

“I’d ask you how I look,” she smirked, “but judging by the way your eyes are about to pop out of your head, I’d say I achieved the affect I was going for.”

He cleared his throat, trying valiantly to keep from salivating at the look of her. “Aye, no man in his right might would be able to take his eyes off of you in that little number, Swan.”

“That’s the idea,” she said, grabbing her purse and checking to make sure her pepper spray was in place. “Well, gotta go if I’m going to meet him on time.”

Killian tried one more time. “Perhaps you should take someone with you, Swan,” he said hesitantly. “If not me, perhaps Smee or that Tiny fellow you mentioned. Just for safety.”

Her anger blazed again as she rounded on him. “Yeah, because nothing says hot date like bringing along your roommate or one of his friends.”

“I’m just saying…”

“I know what you’re saying,” she said, yanking the apartment door open and stepping out, “but I can take care of myself. The only one who saves me is me.”

“Just….be careful,” he said, letting a little of his fear creep into his voice.

The fear seemed to be what did it. She turned back to him, her face softer. “I will, Killian. I promise.”

And then she was gone.

That was five hours ago. Her “date” should have been long over, her skip safely behind bars (likely with quite the shiner), and her at home decompressing with him over a drink or two.

Perhaps she’d decided to stop at the Rabbit Hole for that drink to cool down after collaring the skip?

Perhaps, but his gut was telling him that wasn’t the case. His gut was telling him the same thing it had been telling him since she got home tonight. Her emotions put her in a vulnerable state and something went terribly wrong.

He was just on the point of throwing on his leather jacket and going out to look for her when he finally, finally heard the key in the lock. He felt the relief wash over him. She was okay; she was…

His relief lasted only until he caught sight of her. She looked, for lack of a better description, like hell. She held her shoes in her hand, one of which was missing it’s stiletto heel. Her dress was torn and covered with flecks of mud. She had a split lip and her blackening eye was rapidly swelling shut.

When Killian noticed her holding onto her side and limping as she made her way over the threshold, he sprang into action. He leaped forward, putting her arm around his shoulders and taking her weight as he eased her over to the sofa.

“Swan, what _happened_?”

She looked chagrined. “Well, cliff’s notes, things didn’t go exactly as planned, but I did end up collaring my skip. Emma Swan always gets her man.”

“Did he...did he do this to you?” Killian felt the anger bubbling up. He could kill this man with his bare hands.

She looked down, playing with the frayed end of the rip in her dress. “You were right Killian. I should have listened to you,” she said. “His situation, well it brought up a lot of my old crap, and I went in hot. Maybe if I’d stopped to calm down a little, I’d have seen the signs before he ran; maybe I would have been more prepared for it when he attacked me.”

Killian took a deep breath, willing his own anger down. He could deal with it later. For now, his priority was, must be, taking care of Emma. “Swan,” he started. Her eyes stayed trained on her dress. “Swan, look at me.”

After a moment, she complied, and the look in her eyes broke Killian’s heart. She looked like a lost little girl, but what was worse, she looked guilty.

“Emma, this was _not_ your fault,” he said gently but firmly. “I don’t know how things progressed tonight, but you are not to blame for that absolute piece of human excrement’s attack on you. No one deserves that; least of all you.”

The tears welled in her eyes, and after a moment she gave him a tentative smile.

And then promptly grimaced, hand going to her split lip, which was beginning to bleed again. Killian frowned. “We can talk all about what happened if you like, but first, let’s get you taken care of, yeah?”

She tried to wave him off. “It’s okay, Killian,” she said. “I’ve had worse. I can take care of it.”

“Nonsense, love,” he said, propping her swelling ankle on a pillow on the coffee table, and then moving toward his first aid kit under the kitchen sink. “What are roommates, what are _friends_ for?”

She smiled again, more carefully this time to avoid aggravating her injuries. Killian gathered all the medical supplies he could find, filled an ice bag for her ankle, and then filled a small basin with warm water. He felt so _helpless_. Back home, he could have healed her wounds in a second with his elven magic, but here, here in the land without magic he was relegated to salves and creams and bandages.

Killian gently laid the ice pack against her rapidly purpling ankle and then handed her a couple aspirin and a water bottle. As he gently began to dab at her split lip, he asked if she’d like to talk about what happened.

She blew out a deep breath. “So our ‘date’ was going well until I told him what I was really doing there. He flipped the table. Spilled my wine all over my dress, by the way. Anyway, I followed him back to his car, which I’d already had a boot put on. That should have been the end of it, but when I got to his car he started saying all this stuff about how I wouldn’t know anything about family anyway and no one cared about me and all of that.”

Killian felt his heart break for her.

“And,” she shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess it just made me feel not good enough all of the sudden. Suddenly, I was that little girl in the foster system that no family wanted. It was just enough to break my attention, and he got out of the car and punched me and then started running. I followed, of course, and I caught him, but when I tackled him to the ground, my heel broke and my ankle turned, and then he was hitting me again and kicking me in the side. Hope none of my ribs are broken.”

“Swan…” he said, not even sure what he wanted to say, just needing to comfort. He cupped her head in his hand, letting the silky strands of blonde hair slip through his fingers. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment, before continuing.

“Eventually I was able to land a few good punches myself and then kind of stab him with the broken stiletto, and it distracted him enough that I was able to slap cuffs on him and call the cops.”

“And the police simply let you go home in this state?” Killian asked. “They didn’t take you to the hospital? Swan, you need care!”

“They offered,” she said, “but I waved them off. It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

Killian put a bandage on a small cut against her temple. “Perhaps, but you shouldn’t have to! Swan, you must promise me to be more careful!”

She furrowed her brow, at least as much as she could with her various contusions. “Why does it even matter to you, Killian? I’m just your roommate. Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” he gritted out, “because I lo--” he stopped himself abruptly, closing his eyes, willing himself to get a hold of his emotions. “Because you’re bloody brilliant, amazing, Emma Swan. Because it’s all become so much. Because if anything were to happen to you, I’d--”

He stopped again. She waited a beat, and then leaned forward, one finger beneath his chin, raising his face until he met her eyes. “You’d what, Killian?”

“I’d be lost,” he nearly whispered. “You may not be used to mattering to anyone, love, but you _matter_ to me.”

For the space of several heartbeats they remained still, merely looking at each other, and then she leaned forward, gently, tentatively taking his lips with her own. 


	9. The Siege of Misthaven

**Chapter 8: The Siege of Misthaven**

_The Enchanted Forest, nearly 21 years ago_

Rumple felt the darkness bubble up, strong and deadly. It was a familiar sensation; he’d been living with it for centuries, ever since he’d first chosen it a lifetime ago.

What was not familiar, was that the rage was directed at his son.

Rumple glanced contemptuously at Neal as he cowered and sniveled in the far corner of the cave the Misthaven royals had fashioned into a cell for him. His son was the light of his life, probably the only person in all the realms he loved truly and completely. Ever since the boy was born, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for him. 

Normally he was the one ray of sunshine in Rumple’s dark life, but today, today Neal had failed him. In one short month, Neal had undone all of his careful planning. Because of his son’s incompetence, not only was Camelot _not_ his, but the Misthaven royals had been put on high alert. All his schemes, all his hopes for a stealth attack up in smoke.

Rumple paced, feeling the dark magic whisper seductively to him, urging him to hurt, to kill. But he was built of stronger stuff than that, and he would not harm the one person in the world he yet loved.

Nay, he wouldn’t harm him, but he could put the fear of the gods into him.

“Do you realize what you’ve cost me, dearie?” Rumple shrieked as he paced. 

If possible, Neal seemed to shrink into himself even more. “I’m sorry, Papa,” he said in a small voice. “It won’t happen again.”

“Oh you’re right, it won’t happen again,” Rumple yelled. “Because if it ever did, son or no son, I would have to rip you limb from limb. No one, _no one_ will come between me and my plans. I will get the power that’s owed to me, or I promise you, laddie, the fires of hell would feel like a gentle breeze compared to what I will reign down on you.”

Neal whimpered. “I’m sorry Papa.”

The sight of the pathetic figure before him only increased Rumple’s frustration and he raged on and on, sending the occasional bolt of pure, malevolent magic Neal’s way. He never actually hit him with it, but it would have been enough to scare his son witless if he had any wits left.

Clearly, if he wanted anything done right, he’d have to do it himself. Throwing one last bolt of magic toward Neal and rolling his eyes at the cowardly yell coming from his son, Rumple turned on his heel and marched toward a small crevice in the stone wall where he secreted the items he wished to keep hidden from the royals.

He pushed aside a roll of parchment, a quill and a useless, dried up bottle of what used to be squid ink, and reached for a long, sharp rock he’d worked free from one of the walls of his cell.

Neal screamed when he saw it. “Please Papa, No!”

Rumple rolled his eyes again. “Please. If I’d wanted to kill you, I’d have done it long before now, and I wouldn’t need a weapon to do it.”

His fear evidently ameliorated for the moment, Neal looked on curiously. “If it’s not for me, what are you going to do with it?”

Rumple ignored him and went about his business, magicing an orb of light behind him. The light shown brightly in the dark cell, and Rumple’s shadow loomed large before him. Rumple smiled to himself, feeling victory already. He stooped down cutting at his shoes where his shadow met his feet. The pain was immediate and intense, like a part of his very essence was being ripped free, but Rumple ignored the pain, finishing one foot and then going on to the other.

When the shadow was free, it floated lazily before him, awaiting orders.

“The sword is somewhere in Misthaven,” he said. “Find it and bring it back to me, and in the process reign as much death and destruction as possible on anyone you meet.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Misthaven castle, Snow and Charming’s private rooms, nearly 21 years ago_

Snow reclined on the fainting couch near one of the windows of her bedroom as night fell over the castle. She’d always loved this alcove; it was so peaceful with the candles on the table and the colorful flowers on the window sill. She’d changed into David’s favorite nightgown, white and lacy, demure, but with a hint of decolletage.

They’d returned to Misthaven a week ago and had received a better reception than she had feared. Oh her family and her people were surprised, of course, but it had taken no more than minutes for her father to embrace her warmly and wish her happiness with her new husband.

“You love him, daughter?” He’d asked simply.

“More than my own life,” she’d replied fervently.

King Leopold smiled at her, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Then I gladly share in your joy. Come. Today is a day for celebration!”

And what a celebration it had been! Her father had thrown her a wedding feast the likes of which Misthaven had never seen. Snow thought her heart would burst with the love and joy she felt.

But beneath the joy, there was also an ever present fear that she couldn’t banish. David knew it; he could sense something was off with her; of course he could; she’d been subtly pulling away from him for days now, but he was unfailingly patient and loving with her. He’d asked her what was wrong and she’d been evasive, telling him she didn’t know. She could tell he’d wanted to question her father, but he’d refrained, giving her her space, letting her come to him when she wanted to.

It made her feel terribly guilty.

And after some soul searching today, she decided she was done. She was done being a slave to fear and guilt. She wasn’t letting the Dark One steal away one more moment of her joy. Tonight, she was going to talk it out with her husband. Tonight, she was going to tell him what she really wanted more than anything.

So when he entered their room a few moments later and sat tentatively near her feet on the fainting couch, she started in without preamble.

“When you asked me what was bothering me, I said I didn’t know, but I did,” she said. “I was just afraid of admitting it.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Admitting what?”

She took a deep breath and then dove right in. “I want to start a family.”

For a moment, he was still, silent, and Snow worried what he might say. But then a smile as bright and beautiful as the sunrise spread over his face.

“So do I, why is that to be feared?” he asked.

She paused for a moment, searching for the right words to adequately express what she was feeling. “Because I couldn’t imagine bringing a child into a world where the Dark One is always a threat. How could I bring something good into a world where there was always something bad out there?”

“We’ll find a way to stop him,” David cut in quickly.

“No, that’s not the point. I was wrong!” Snow said, leaning forward and taking his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “We can’t wait anymore. We have to start our family now.”

David furrowed his brow. “I don’t follow.”

“The Dark One, the Dark One will always be a problem. If not him, there will be someone or something else. There will always be something else,” she said intently. “We can’t let it define us. We have to find the good moments in between all of the bad ones. What better way to make a good moment than with a child?”

If she thought his smile at her admission that she wanted a child was beautiful, the one he gave her now put it to shame. He surged forward, hand in her hair, kissing her passionately.

“I couldn’t agree more, my love,” he said when he pulled back. “What better time to start trying for our family than right now?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Misthaven Castle, watchtower, nearly 21 years ago._

Lieutenant Killian Jones stood at the barbican looking out over the fields and forests surrounding Misthaven castle as his brother, Liam did the same from the opposite corner. It was ostensibly a night like any other when the brothers Jones were tasked to watch over the keep through the night, but a strange feeling of foreboding had been plaguing Killian all evening.

“Penny for your thoughts, Little Brother?” Liam asked. Killian could feel his eyes on him, and knew if he’d turn to look at Liam he’d see a troubled look in his eyes.

“_Younger_ brother,” Killian corrected automatically.

Liam chuckled before striding over and putting a hand on Killian’s shoulder, and Killian immediately felt a measure of peace drape over him. Their parents had been killed long ago in the Ogre Wars, and Liam had been like father, mother, brother, confidente and dearest friend ever since. Killian shuddered to think what he would have done through the difficult years without Liam by his side.

“I don’t know, Liam,” Killian finally said slowly. “I feel as though...as though we’re on the cusp of some terrible event. I don’t know why but I’m quite ill at ease.”

Liam nodded.”Recent events involving the minions of the Dark One can’t help but make you ill at ease, but there’s no evidence of his escape.”

_The Dark One_. Even the mention of the name put a queasy feeling in Killian’s stomach and made his blood boil with rage. He clenched his very life-like left hand as the memories washed over him.

He’d been a rather young lieutenant at the time the Dark One was last in power. With his crisp naval uniform, his hair pulled back into a queue at the back of his head and his hat atop his head, he knew he cut quite the dashing figure. He was idealistic, believing wholeheartedly and passionately in defending his realm. He believed rather naively that good would always triumph over evil.

Oh how painfully was he to learn that sometimes, at least for a time, evil could triumph.

He’d been preparing to set sail, when he’d first met her. _Milah_. She was beautiful, spirited, brave...and utterly unattainable. She’d come to him just as he was on the point of casting off, a small boy clutched to her as she ran, crying out for aid.

Killian had leapt to her defense, taking her aboard immediately. He’d felt a pang of concern when she’d explained that she was the wife of the Dark One and that she and her son _must_ get free of him. It was no small thing to deliberately oppose Rumplestiltskin, but in the end, he’d done the only thing a man of honor could do. He’d offered Milah and young Baelfire a place upon his ship.

Liam had been none too pleased when he’d learned what Killian had done. “Killian, you think too much with your heart. Your actions have consequences! Think what a target you’ve placed on our backs--everyone on this ship--by meddling in another man’s marriage.”

Though he valued Liam’s opinion, Killian had been resolute. No matter the cost, it was good form to help those in need and he would not turn his back on Milah or her son, come what may.

Liam had frowned, shaking his head, but in the end he’d sighed in defeat. “Take care, Killian. I fear your impetuous nature will one day be your destruction.”

Perhaps it would, but it mattered not. What was done was done and it would not be undone.

For the space of a month things had gone well. Perhaps too well. Killian found himself spending all his free time with the beautiful brunette and her small son, and as though it was inevitable, he soon found himself falling deeply in love with her.

But their love was, of course, star-crossed, for the Dark One saw his family as his possession, and no one stole from the Dark One without facing severe retribution.

It was a bright, sunny morning when Rumplestiltskin materialized in a puff of smoke upon the deck of their ship, _The Jewel of the Realm_. It was all over before Killian even fully knew what had happened. By a force of malevolent magic, he was tied to the mast and watched in horror as Rumplestiltskin ripped out his own wife’s heart and crushed it to a fine powder before him. Killian was able to free himself just in time to catch her dying body and hear her “I love you” before she died in his arms.

A rage such as he’d never known filled him, and he picked up a nearby fishhook and plunged it into the Dark One’s black heart.

But the Dark One could not be killed so easily. He merely laughed at Killian’s attempt to slay him before slicing off Killian’s left hand with one mere flick of the wrist. Gathering his son to him, Rumplestiltskin had vanished in a puff of black smoke.

Had it not been for Liam, Killian had no idea what would have become of him. His brother had nursed him through the agonizing pain--both physical and emotional. He’d taken him to the wizard, Merlin, who’d conjured a new hand for him, one that looked and felt very much like a real one. He’d talked Killian through the rage and agony, pulled him back from the precipice, so to speak.

If it had not been for Liam, Killian had no doubt he’d have wasted centuries of his life in a futile quest for vengeance against the demon who had taken so much from him.

But Liam _was_ there, and slowly, Killian had healed. The anger and sadness never completely faded, but Killian had come to find some amount of satisfaction in the fact that the royals had trapped Ruplestiltskin in a dark, dank dungeon.

“I don’t know, Liam,” Killian said again, coming back to the present to look at his brother. “Perhaps that is what troubles me, but my instincts say something more is at play. I fear we’re on the brink of--”

Killian stopped abruptly as something in the distance caught his eye. It was a darkness deeper than the surrounding night. It looked like...like a shadow. Killian watched it in bemusement for a moment, and then it suddenly split apart. One shadow became two, two became four, and so on until a veritable shadow army stood before the castle. 

Suddenly, Killian noticed the long, sharp broadswords in the shadows’ incorporeal hands, and Liam’s shouts of warning filled his ears as he notched an arrow in his bow and let it fly.

It passed through the leader of the shadow army as though it were passing through open air.

Killian ran to sound the alarm, his earlier foreboding morphing into panic. They were under attack, but how did one fight against the unkillable?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Shadow glided soundlessly through the castle. All around him the sounds of fear, destruction and death were all pervasive as his minions followed the Dark One’s command to create as much chaos and terror as possible. The Shadow looked on impassively as one of his surrogates slowly ripped the shadow from a screaming servant.

But their activities were none of his concern. He had two very specific missions, and he didn’t intend to veer from his course until he’d fulfilled them.

The first was easy enough: Kill the king and destabilize the kingdom.

The Shadow glided through the upper chambers until he came upon a door bearing the Misthaven seal, two heavily armed men in full chainmail standing before it. The king’s bedchamber.

The guards looked uneasy as he approached, the sound of battle below obviously putting them on guard. The one on the left wished to go and help his compatriots below, The Shadow could tell, but their orders were obviously to protect the king at all costs.

Not that their swords were any match for the Shadow of the Dark One, imbued with all his dark magic.

The shadow made quick work of the guards, ripping their shadows from their bodies before they even had time to shout. Both fell lifelessly to the ground as The Shadow glided effortlessly through the solid wooden doorway and into the king’s bedchamber itself.

By the light of the fire, burnt down to embers now, The Shadow saw the king sleeping peacefully upon his splendid four-poster bed. The sounds of the battle being waged below were muted to the point of being nearly undetectable, and the king smiled slightly in his sleep.

What fools these elves were to trust the fragile illusion of security they’d placed around themselves!

With a wave of his incorporeal hand, the shadow produced a large, ornately carved and padlocked box which he set soundlessly upon the table at the foot of King Leopold’s bed. With a second wave of the hand, the lid opened. Slowly, gracefully a single, two-headed Agrabah viper emerged and slithered within the red, silk sheets upon the king’s bed.

The Shadow glided toward the head of the bed and watched as the viper emerged, hissing and baring its two sets of fangs, dripping with the deadliest of venom. The viper looked to him for guidance, and with a single gesture of his hand, The Shadow set it upon its course.

The viper carefully positioned itself and then struck with lightning speed, it’s fangs burying themselves within the king’s jugular before he was even fully awake.

King Leopold cried out weakly as the venom surged through his veins, its blackness creeping inexorably up his face. Fear filled his eyes for but a moment before the life drained from his body.

The first mission was accomplished; the king was dead. Now to find Excalibur and return his Dark Lord to full power once and for all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, Present Day_

Killian locked his office door and then headed for home. It was a bit of a hike back to his loft--some three miles--but Emma had needed the bug today to chase down a skip, and as it was a beautiful day, Killian was more than willing to go on foot.

_Emma._

Just the thought of her name started a fluttering in his heart. The two of them had been courting for two weeks now, and without hesitation he could say they had been the two best, most beautiful weeks of his life. To think that she chose him, that she _loved_ him (for he knew she did)--it was more than he could have ever imagined.

Killian found his mind wandering, as it so often did, to that incredible first kiss they’d shared. She’d taken him by surprise, leaning in after he’d confessed his feelings to her, but though her kiss was unexpected, it was far from being unwelcome. From the moment her lips had tentatively touched his, he’d felt--how to describe it?--he’d felt as though the world had suddenly come into focus, as though he were hearing music for the first time, as though colors were more vibrant. It was as though everything in his life had suddenly shifted into place.

It felt like all the dreadfully overused and cliched descriptions of bliss and yet somehow...more.

He’d frozen for the space of a heartbeat as her lips settled gently over his, and then pure instinct, need and aching love had taken over. He’d turned his head, angling to be closer, ever closer to her. His hand cupped her face, fingers lazily trailing through her silky hair as she opened for him, inviting him to deepen the kiss.

He’d obliged, wanting more, wanting _everything_. On and on the kiss had gone, until they were both thoroughly out of breath. He’d pulled away then, only for her to chase his lips with her own before gracing him with a shy sweet smile. He’d returned it briefly, before leaning in to capture her lips once more.

Now that he’d had a taste of those delectable lips, he never wanted to stop sipping from their honeyed depths.

And so the kiss had gone on and on for minutes, hours, he couldn’t say how long. All he knew was that he had found the one his heart had always longed for, and he would do anything, _anything_ for her.

After the kiss, they had moved quite naturally into a relationship. They’d yet to have “the talk” as she’d called it, and so what precisely they were to each other was as yet undefined, but it was clear that what they had between them was big and real and all-encompassing.

Since that night, they’d shared more kisses and more, as she put it, make-out sessions, on the couch. They’d spent romantic nights on the town, hand-in-hand walks along the waterfront, a moonlight picnic beneath the stars. He’d done his best to show her how very much he loved her with small, romantic gestures, and she’d responded in kind, always showering him with little kisses, little caresses.

The smiles she’d graced him with on a daily basis could have warmed him even through the bitterest of cold.

Killian knew Emma wanted to take their physical relationship to the next level, but that was a line Killian would not as yet cross. He wanted to--ached with the need to unite himself to her in the fullest way possible--but he was a man of honor and he would not take advantage of her in such a way. She needed--deserved--to know the full truth about who he was, why he was here and why their paths had crossed in the first place before things became any more intimate between them.

Only an utter cad would take advantage of a woman in such a way without making sure she knew such vital information, and Killian would never engage in such bad form.

And so, he’d always stopped their amorous encounters before they’d gotten out of hand. The first time it had happened, she’d worn such a wounded, rejected look on her face that it had nearly broken him, and he’d rushed to reassure her.

“It’s not that I don’t want you, Emma,” he’d said, cupping her face in his hand and giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Gods do I want you, more than you could ever know.”

“Then why are you pulling away from me?” she’d asked, slight tremble in her voice.

“Because, my love, this is so _real_, so new, so precious,” he’d answered. “I don’t want a quick dalliance with you. I want to build a relationship that will last. I want to move slowly and make sure we do this right.”

She’d smiled at him then, accepting his answer, and then settling into his embrace as they browsed through the selections on Netflix.

He’d felt a pang of guilt at the answer he’d given her. It was the truth, but it wasn’t the full truth. He should tell her the full truth, he knew he should, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to. He still wasn’t convinced she was ready, and if he moved too quickly, if he scared her away….well, he feared it would utterly break him.

But such gloomy considerations could wait. For the moment, Killian was determined to enjoy the beautiful weather and the beautiful first blush of new love he and Emma shared.

On impulse, Killian popped into the local florist shop as he made his way home and bought her a bouquet of wildflowers, liberally sprinkled with buttercups. He’d first given her the delicate yellow flowers only days after their courtship began, knowing, even if she did not, what importance the buds held to her family lineage. Her family crest was, after all, covered in them. Emma had loved the gift, putting the flowers immediately in a vase and prominently displaying it on their kitchen table.

She’d showed him her birthmark, then, a perfect replica of a buttercup on the inside of her wrist. She’d found it odd--miraculous even--that she had a birthmark of such stunning resemblance to a flower. He knew differently, of course. Not only was the birthmark not truly a birthmark, but it had more significance than she could ever imagine.

But there again was a tale she was not yet ready to hear.

As he walked, Killian gradually realized something was off. If his head hadn't been in the clouds thinking of Emma, he would have noticed it sooner, but now that he had realized it, it was unmistakable.

He was being followed.

Killian surreptitiously looked behind him, noticing a man with curly black hair and equally dark scruff attempting to look like he was merely out for an evening stroll. Something about the man seemed familiar, but Killian couldn’t place it.

But whatever the man had in mind, it couldn’t be good. For what kind of a man tailed another for any good purpose?

Killian picked up his pace, but the man behind him followed suit. Seeing the man’s persistence, Killian realized his best option was to confront him.

Turning around, Killian leveled his most intimidating look on his follower. “Who the bloody hell are you and why are you following me?”

The man showed no surprise at being called out. Indeed he smiled. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice me. If you want to protect Emma, come with me.”

Killian’s heart rate ticked up. A threat to himself he could handle, but he’d fight to the death anyone threatening his love. “How do you know Emma?” he growled, taking a threatening step forward. 

The man didn’t flinch. “The name’s August, and it’s a long story, but trust me, you want to hear it.”

“Alright August,” Killian said tightly. “Who are you? You’ve got two minutes.”

“Think of me as Emma’s guardian angel,” he answered.

Killian looked August up and down disdainfully. “You’ve done a piss poor job of it, then.”

August shrugged, looking not the least bit concerned at the insult. “I’ve been looking for her for the past two months, but I’m not perfect. This world is full of temptations. Turns out I’m not good at saying no. I’m not built that way. But I’m here now.”

“And I’ve been here for her for months,” Killian said, arms crossed. “I’ll never let anything happen to her. Never.”

August smiled. “You love her! Good! That means you have to do right by her!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do!” Killian said. “I’ll ask you one more time. _Who are you and what are you doing here?”_

“Liam sent me,” August said simply. Killian felt the blood drain from his face. 

_Liam sent him? _

“Why?”

“I think you know why,” August said. “You have to leave her.”

“Never.” Killian said, his voice low and deadly.

“She has a destiny,” August said, “and you, this life, you’re going to keep her from it.”

Killian balled his fist, wanting nothing more than to plant it in this smug man’s face. He took a step forward, getting right in August’s face.

“Let me be abundantly clear,” Killian said, staring August down. “I will never, _never_ leave Emma Swan. Not unless she herself bids me leave her. She’s been left and discarded by far too many people in her life and I will not, _will not_ be one of them.”

“But Liam..”

“Liam can go stuff himself!” Killian shouted. He stepped away, taking a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “Look, I love my brother, more than just about anyone or anything, but this is non-negotiable.”

“Killian, you know what will happen if Emma doesn’t fulfill her destiny,” August tried again. “This is bigger than you, bigger than Emma, bigger than all of us. The fate of our entire world rests on this.”

“And if she is to fulfill that destiny, she’ll need someone she trusts, someone she loves to help her,” Killian argued.

“Liam won’t be pleased with me returning alone,” August said, sighing.

“Tell him I was resolute. He’s long lamented my stubbornness. I promise you Liam will mete out no punishment upon you for my fault.”

August was silent, merely looking at him for long moments, but finally he backed down. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll leave you to it, but Killian, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

Killian turned and began making his way home, his joy from earlier having evaporated, replaced by an uneasiness.

Liam was right.

Oh, not about Killian leaving Emma. Upon that, Killian would not budge, whatever the consequences. But the mission, about that, Liam was right. The fact was, in the blush of new love with Emma, Killian had almost entirely put aside the reason he was in this land in the first place. He was far more concerned with loving Emma than convincing her of her past.

But it was time he came clean. He had to tell Emma the full truth about who he was, who _she_ was, why he was here, not only because of her destiny, but because she deserved to know the truth.

If they were to have any kind of real relationship, it must be rooted in truth. There must be no secrets between them.

Taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, Killian made the decision. He would tell her everything tonight.

He could only pray she would take it well.

_Notes: Eek! Sorry for the unconscionably long delay! I had hoped this whole Covid19 quarantine would provide me with more time to write, but the muse is a fickle, fickle creature, and despite the fact that I was looking forward to this chapter--CS romance and one of the two scenes that I built this entire story on--I just couldn’t find the motivation._

_\--Obviously both the scene where Snow and Charming talked about starting a family and the scene where August came to Killian were based heavily on OUAT cannon, and a lot of the dialog was even lifted directly from the script. All the credit there goes to the OUAT writers!_

_\--I’m looking forward to what I have planned for the next chapter. In the past, the Jones Brothers play an important part in trying to get Snow and Charming to safety as the Shadow and his army continue to reign terror on Misthaven Castle. In the present, Killian comes clean to Emma and tells her everything--but how will she take the news?_


	10. Keep It Secret; Keep It Safe

_ Author’s note: I’m sorry in advance. I promise it was necessary. *grabs popcorn and waits for the outrage, smiling with evil glee* _

_ Misthaven castle 21 years ago _

David woke abruptly to the sound of a fist pounding at their chamber door. Beside him, Snow stirred, sleepily asking “What is it, Charming?”

“I don’t know”, he said sitting up and reaching for the sword he had propped up beside the bed. “Wait here; I’ll find out.”

The pounding came again; this time stronger and more insistent.

David hastily donned his breeches and rushed to the door.

He didn’t know what he expected to see upon opening it, but Merlin, as frantic as he’d ever seen him, wasn’t it. David waited for the wizard to speak as the sounds of chaos and screaming filtered in from below. Hearing the panicked cries for help, David gripped his sword tighter and started to move into the corridor, but Merlin stopped him with a raised hand.

“The castle is under attack, Your Majesties,” Merlin began. We  _ must _ get you to safety.”

Snow stepped up beside David placing a bracing hand on his arm. “If we’re under attack,” she said, “I must find my bow. We must come to the aid of our people.”

“What you must do,” Merlin said more firmly this time, “is get to safety. I cannot stress upon you how important it is that you survive this. If you do not, we are  _ all  _ lost.”

Merlin looked intently at Snow, gesturing vaguely toward her midsection, and added cryptically “Now more than ever.”

“I’m not going to slink away like a coward while my people fight for their lives!” David growled. “If you think I’m going to…”

Snow stopped him with a hand to his chest. He looked over to see her looking intently at the wizard. “David, I think we best follow his advice.”

It went against every instinct in his body, but finally David nodded in acquiescence. “Very well.”

Merlin nodded in satisfaction before stepping aside to reveal two men David vaguely recognized as members of Misthaven’s guard. “Excellent,” Merlin said. “May I present to you Captain Liam Jones and Lieutenant Killian Jones. They will see you to safety.”

The older of the two, a man with curly brown hair bowed to them. “It is our honor, Your Majesties. We will see you to safety or perish in the attempt.”

“ _ None _ of you must perish,” Merlin insisted. “I cannot stress this upon you strongly enough.”

David nodded, taking Snow’s hand and moving to follow the soldiers into the corridor, but suddenly Merlin stopped them again, pulling a long, wavy, ornately decorated sword free from his robes and handing it to Snow.

“Is that…?” Snow began.

“Aye,” Merlin nodded. “It’s Excalibur the attackers seek, and it’s Excalibur they must not get under any circumstances. Keep it secret; keep it safe.”

Snow tucked the sword away beneath her dressing gown and nodded firmly at Merlin. He stepped aside and Snow and David followed the two soldiers down the corridor.

Just before he was out of sight, Merlin called after them one more time. “Never forget: Darkness can always be dispelled by the light.”

It was a cryptic statement, much like many Merlin made at regular intervals, but David hadn’t the time to puzzle it out now. The closer they came to the keep’s main stairway, the louder the sounds of battle and mayhem became. David glanced to the end of the hall and saw what looked like the shadow of a man stepping toward a terrified servant. Reaching forward the shadow pulled at the servant until his own shadow came free. The servant screamed in agony before slumping to the floor.

Beside him, Snow shouted out, reaching for the bow slung across her back, but before she could charge forward, the younger of their two guards stepped before her.

“We cannot help him now, Your Majesty,” he said firmly. “We  _ must _ get to safety.”

The captain stepped in again, “Our way forward is blocked, Killian,” he said. “How do we proceed from here?”

“Through my old nursery,” Snow answered quickly, turning in the opposite direction as a new skirmish began behind them. “There’s a secret passage; it leads out toward the woods.”

The captain nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. Snow led them into a room at the end of the corridor just as a shout went up indicating they’d been spotted.

The four piled into the room, and the captain locked the door, barricading it with the heavy wooden crib of the nursery before pulling his sword and standing guard before it.

“It’s here; the door is hidden just behind this tapestry,” Snow called from the far end of the room. David hastily moved the cloth aside, and the younger guard turned the knob of the door behind, putting a shoulder into it when it didn’t immediately give way.

David helped Snow inside before scrambling in behind her.

“Liam?” the younger guard called.

“Go,” the captain ordered. “I’ll stand guard until you’re safely through then follow behind.”

“But..” Killian protested.

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” Liam growled as the sounds of banging at the chamber door picked up in intensity.

It was clear Lieutenant Jones was loath to leave the captain behind, but after a moment he nodded, climbing into the passage himself and closing the door behind them, pitching them into complete darkness.

“Follow me!” Snow said. “I travelled this passage countless times as a girl trying to escape from the tutor.”

They hurried down a stone staircase and then through a dank hall that smelled of mildew. David batted aside a cobweb as he followed his wife, his heart pounding as they ran for their lives.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a wall, feeling blindly near the floor, Snow found a latch, and a door swung open revealing to them the welcome sight of the empty forest before them.

“Come, Your Majesties!” the lieutenant urged, and the three of them sprinted for the forest.

Just before they reached the trees, David looked behind him to see Captain Liam Jones emerge from the passageway. His relief at the guard’s safety lasted less than a moment, for on his heels were no less than four shadows.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snow’s heart pounded as she continued running toward the forest. She felt Excalibur slap against her hip where she had it secured beneath her dressing gown. What  _ were _ those things that were following them and why were they attacking her castle?

Why were they being ushered out into the woods instead of staying to fight for their home?

Where was her father?

There was no time to puzzle out the answers now. Now, all that existed was her husband’s hand in hers and the terror of knowing they were being hunted.

The fear doubled as Snow reflected on the sight they’d seen in the castle--the creature or shadow or whatever it was ripping the shadow from one of the servants. She knew she’d never forget the servant’s anguished cry before he fell to the ground unmoving.

Taking a deep breath, Snow picked up her pace, though her muscles were screaming at her to stop, to rest. Giving in to panic would do nothing but get them killed. She must remain focused on the task at hand.

“Liam!” their guard, Killian, called out as he looked behind them.

“Get them to safety, Killian!” Liam called back. “I’m fine!”

Snow chanced a glance behind her and cried out at what she saw. Captain Jones was most assuredly not fine. The four shadows following him were gaining quickly. Any moment he’d be overtaken.

Snow felt a gentle but firm hand on her arm. “We must keep going, Your Majesty! Nothing matters as much as your safety and that of the blade you carry.”

It went against everything in her nature, but Snow obeyed, continuing her run, dodging tree roots and branches as they moved toward the dark heart of the forest.

Behind them shouts rang out, first Captain Liam and then Lieutenant Killian. Two of the dark forms had pinned them against trees, their incorporeal hands pulling at the soldiers’ shadows as they screamed in agony.

Snow stopped, reaching for Excalibur.

“Get out of here!” Lieutenant Killian screamed. “Go!”

David took her arm and tried to propel her forward, but she stood firm. “We can’t just leave them, Charming! We have to make a stand! We have to fight!”

David hesitated for a moment and then nodded, drawing his own sword. She and David stood together as the remaining two shadows advanced. The first one--the smaller of the two--reached David first, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him. Snow called out, slashing at the shadow with her sword--but it went right through the creature as though it were going through nothing but air. Undeterred, the shadow continued on, slamming David against a gigantic oak tree and tugging at his shadow.

Again absolute terror threatened to overwhelm Snow, but she pushed it aside, forcing herself to think. If she was to save her husband, she must have her wits about her.

The final and biggest shadow moved toward her, but it moved more slowly, cautiously. It seemed more intent on her blade, on Excalibur, than it was on attacking her as its lieutenants attacked the men around her. As Merlin ordered, she  _ must _ keep it safe!

Suddenly Merlin’s last, cryptic message came back to her.  _ Darkness can always be dispelled by the light. _

_ That was it! _

By force of will, Snow blocked out the anguished screams of the men being tortured around her and focused on gathering whatever brush, branches and wood she could, praying she had time to carry out her plan before the largest shadow took her as well.

Snow wished with everything in her that she still had her magic. It would make all of this so much easier. But her magic was gone, and she hadn’t time to lament it’s absence. She brought to mind the time she’d spent with her parents in the woods as a child, the survival skills they’d taught her. Looking around hastily, she found a rough stone, and struck it against excalibur.

Nothing happened.

The shadow, seeming to grasp her intent, advanced more quickly. She had no time to lose. The creature’s hand shot out, came so close she felt it’s icy coldness on her skin. She had but one last shot. She struck the rock against the sword once more, and then cried out in victory as a flame shot forth and the brush and branches caught.

Snow blew on the pile of debris before her, praying the fire took off, praying her idea would work.

The small flame grew until it was a veritable bonfire.

The shadow nearest her shrank back, but it was no use. The flame slowly sucked it in. It wriggled and struggled as it slowly disappeared within the light. With their master gone, the remaining shadows dissolved into nothingness, and the three men fell to the ground with a thud.

Snow ran to David, terrified of what she would find. 

He groaned as he pushed himself from the ground and struggled to a seated position.

“Charming!” she breathed, gathering him in her arms as wave after wave of relief poured over her. David raised a shaking hand to the back of her head, and brought her down for a kiss.

Behind them, the Jones men struggled with difficulty to their feet and moved toward the fire, intent on quenching it before it consumed the forest.

Snow shuddered to think what carnage awaited them back at the castle, but they were safe, as was the blade. It was over.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_ Land Without Magic, present day _

Emma struck the match and lit the last candle, and then stepped back to admire her handiwork. The apartment looked like something out of one of those rom-com’s she’d always mocked before: Lit candles surrounded the main room, and bouquets of red roses sprinkled with baby’s breath were placed throughout the area. She’d set the table with the finest china she could find in Killian’s cabinets, and the lasagna Killian loved from his favorite diner on the corner was warming in the oven in anticipation of his return home.

Emma had to admit she felt a little silly as she went to her loft bedroom and donned the baby-pink sleeveless dress she’d worn for their first date. After all, they’d only been dating for two weeks. Who went so over-the-top celebrating a two week anniversary?

But she was happy. Really, truly  _ happy _ , and she wanted to show Killian how much he meant to her. He was constantly offering her little romantic gestures--giving her flowers for no reason, just because he was thinking about her, leaving her the sweetest notes along with breakfast when he had to leave before she got up, never passing up an opportunity to caress her face or lace their fingers together. Looking at her as though she was the whole world to him.

It made her feel special, wanted, maybe even loved.

And his kisses. Emma sank to her bed, closing her eyes and sighing in ecstasy at the thought of them. His long, drugging kisses left her breathless, boneless, helpless to control the way her heart skipped a beat.

She’d given more of herself to him than she’d given to anyone. Ever. Oh, she’d certainly had more passionate encounters with men, but even without sleeping together, her relationship with Killian somehow felt more intimate and all-encompassing than anything she’d ever experienced.

And that, more than anything else, should terrify her. How had she let herself fall  _ this _ deep  _ this  _ quickly? 

Emma heard the key in the apartment door and took a deep breath. She’d made a decision to trust him, to believe him, to let down her walls with him. She wasn’t going to let her fears get the better of her. Instead, she was going to enjoy every drop of happiness life with Killian could give her.

She bounded down the stairs, a spring in her step and joy in her heart. She waited only long enough for him to hang his leather jacket on the coat rack and slowly turned to face her before she threw her arms around him and kissed him enthusiastically.

Killian was slow to respond, but eventually his arms came around her. He held her tightly to him, almost too tight. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he held her with desperation.

But then he was kissing her back with kisses that nearly made her forget her own name. After long moments, she pulled back, resting her forehead against his and keeping her eyes closed in bliss.

“You sure we can’t take this back to my bed?” she asked breathlessly. “Or your bed, or the couch or wherever. I’m not picky.”

He chuckled, and paradoxically it almost sounded sad, resigned.

A small wisp of concern bubbled up within her. Emma opened her eyes and looked at him, really looked at him. He looked like someone awaiting sentencing for a major crime rather than someone who’d just come home to his loving girlfriend.

“What’s wrong, Killian?” 

He took a deep breath and then seemed to notice the loft for the first time, his eyes going round as he took in the candles, the flowers, the mood she’d set.

“What’s all this, love?” he asked

She shrugged, feeling a bit foolish now that it was down to it. “I know we only just started dating, and this is probably ridiculous, but I don’t know. I wanted to celebrate our two week anniversary.”

He was silent for long moments, and when she looked at him, she saw a sheen of tears in his eyes, a wistful expression.

“I love you,” he breathed.

He hadn’t meant to say that; she could tell by the way his eyes widened in shock at the admission, but whether he meant to say it or not, Emma could tell he was telling the truth. 

Earlier concerns pushed aside, she surged to her toes once again, closing the distance between them with another searing kiss. When she pulled away again, she repeated those three fateful words to him.

“I love you too, Killian. So much.”

A single tear slid down his cheek as he took a deep breath, lacing her fingers with his own.

“I do love you, Emma,” he said, voice grave, “and that’s why I think it’s time we talked.”

It was as though he’d tossed a bucket of icy water over her. “I’ve found when a guy says that, I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.” 

He chuckled again. The sound definitely forced this time. He tugged on her hand coaxing her to sit with him on the couch. “Whether it’s pleasant or not remains to be seen, but It’s time that the truth, the full truth comes out. I can only hope when it does, you continue to look at me with such love and devotion.”

The dread morphed into outright fear. Dozens of possibilities, each more heartbreaking than the last swam through her head. “You’re scaring me Killian. What truth needs to come out? Have you been  _ lying _ to me?”

“Not overtly, love,” he said in a small voice. “Perhaps by omission, but I never meant to lie to you.”

“What is going on?” she said, pulling back, putting some distance between them. “Just tell me. What is it? Are you cheating on me? Is there another woman?”

He looked shocked and appalled. “Gods no, Emma! Nothing like that!” He ran a distracted hand through his hair, before looking her in the eyes again. “I’m making a right mess of this.”

“Just  _ tell  _ me what’s going on,” Emma said, her voice rising in both pitch and volume. 

Killian took a deep fortifying breath. “Emma, you are an amazing woman, in every possible way, more than even you know. The truth is, things aren’t exactly what they seem.  _ I  _ am not exactly what I seem, and neither are you.”

_ What? _

“Do you remember that night you told me about your dream? The night I told you a bit about my homeland?”

“Yes,” she said, furrowing her brow and drawing out the single syllable.

“The truth is,” he said, then paused before starting again. “The truth is that that land is far away, much farther away than I think you realize.”

“Like Europe? Asia? Russia?” She asked, ready to freely admit she didn’t have the first clue where he was going with this.

“Farther than that, love,” he said. “So far, it’s...it’s not a part of this world at all.”

“What? So you want me to believe you’re from a different planet?” 

“Not a different planet,” he said, “a different realm, an entirely different plane of existence. I am an elf from the land of Misthaven within the Enchanted forest, and so, Emma, are you.”

Emma felt as though her heart stopped and then began racing. She jumped to her feet. “Other realm? Enchanted Forest?  _ Elf? _ Do you have  _ any _ idea how you sound right now?” Her voice rose with every word until she was shouting.

Killian got to his feet and stood before her. He sighed, and then met her eyes. “Like a madman, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, taking another step back. “Like someone who’s crazy...or maybe just someone who’s been playing me this whole time and doesn’t have the balls to just tell me he’s kicking me out.”

He looked up at her, his face a mask of shock. “Swan! Nothing could be farther from the truth! I love you, and I only wish to do right by you, to tell you the truth!”

“Right, and how did you get here?” she asked sarcastically, crossing her arms. “You have a spaceship stashed somewhere?”

He let out a long breath. “No, I came here via a portal, as did you. In this world of no magic, portals to other realms are misunderstood. They’re called black holes. But the particulars aren’t important right now. Swan, I came to this world to remind you of who you are, _ what _ you are. Our world is in grave danger, and you are the savior who must save it. Your kingdom, your family  _ needs _ you.”

Emma felt as though he’d dealt her a physical blow. She couldn’t be more devastated if he’d punched her in the face. He knew her past,  _ knew _ the kind of pain and betrayal she’d gone through. He  _ knew _ how desperately she’d always wished for a family, for her family. He was either batshit crazy or one of the cruelest people she’d ever met to deliberately mess with her like this.

Whatever the case may be, she had to get out of here.  _ Now _ .

“Yeah, I gotta go,” she mumbled, nearly bolting for the door.

“Swan wait!” he called after her, gently grabbing her arm. 

She wrenched her arm free, not bothering to turn back to him. “I’ll be back tomorrow when you’re at work to pick up my stuff. Don’t try to stop me or follow me, or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

Without waiting for a response, she fled through the door, running down the apartment stairs. She made it to the first floor landing before the tears started to flow and the wracking sobs quickly followed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian had no idea how long he’d sat there on his favorite bench on the docks, elbows on knees, hands clasped together, face screwed up in pain. Normally the salty sea breeze ruffling his hair, the sight of the sun disappearing on the horizon brought him peace.

But tonight there was no peace to be found anywhere.

Not even the worst scenarios he could have dreamed up about Emma’s reaction to his confession could have prepared him for the pain he felt now. It was like a living thing, clawing at him from the inside. He’d lost her, irrevocably it would seem.

For long moments after she’d stormed out of the apartment, he’d stood where she left him, paralyzed with anguish over the scene that had just transpired. Even losing Milah in the violent, horrific way he’d lost her hadn’t hurt this badly.

Finally, he’d extinguished the candles around the apartment, turned off the oven, and penned her a note, leaving it beneath the half-read book she’d left on the end table. In it, he’d assured her that nothing would ever change his feelings for her. If she should change her mind and wish to return, he’d welcome her with open arms. Always.

Satisfied with his missive, he’d tossed on his leather jacket and headed for this refuge on the sea. He’d arrived at his bench just as the final rays of the twilight sun began to fade behind the horizon.

He had no idea how long he’d sat there, silent tears he hadn’t the will to contain rolling down his face and dripping from his nose, but it was now full night, the chill of the evening heavy upon him. Or was that just the chill of the light of his life being gone for good?

Beside him, the bench dipped as someone sat. For the briefest moment, Killian thought perhaps Swan had cooled off and come to find him, but his hope was dashed when a large, clearly masculine hand closed comfortingly over his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, brother.”

_ Liam. _

Were he not in a place of such darkness, Killian would be delighted to see his brother, his only remaining family, but as it was, he could barely muster the energy to greet him.

“I assume you’re aware of the events of this night,” Killian said in a voice, still thick with tears.

Liam nodded, then pulled Killian toward him in a one-armed hug. It was a familiar gesture, one Liam had given countless times since they’d lost their parents. It imparted some measure of comfort--but it also brought up a new emotion in Killian. Guilt.

“Then you also know I failed,” Killian said, voice barely above a whisper. “I cocked everything up so royally, I don’t know if there is any fixing it. Instead of helping Emma toward her destiny, I only pushed her farther away. Liam, have my actions this night damned our entire kingdom?”

Liam hugged him tighter, and then let go, turning to look him in the eyes. “No, Killian, they did not. Things are far from ideal right now--as I feared they would be, should you defy me and come to this land too soon--but all is not lost. You planted the seed, and she has seven years yet to let it take root before the prophecy is to be fulfilled.”

Killian nodded, glad that even if his heart was broken, his kingdom wasn’t yet lost.

“It’s time you return with me to Misthaven, brother,” Liam said, turning to look out over the sea. “I know you don’t wish to leave her, but there’s nothing more you can do.”

Everything within Killian recoiled at the idea of leaving Emma.  _ Everything _ . He opened his mouth to refuse, just as he’d done with August, but Liam stopped him with a hand to his arm.

“I know you love her, and I know how far it is from your character to take this advice now,” Liam said, “but remember what you told August. You told him you would not leave her unless she herself sent you away. Has she not done just that?”

Killian hung his head, feeling the tears build behind his eyes once more. Unable to speak, he merely nodded.

“Killian, the contingent of elves that accompanied us to Sherwood Forest has been granted an opportunity to move on, to go into the west,” Liam said. “I have decided that you will be one of them.”

“No!” Killian said quickly, appalled at the very prospect. “Liam, to leave Emma forever? To leave my homeland while the Dark One still terrorizes it? To abandon everything I hold dear? How can you even ask it of me?”

Liam was silent for a long moment. “There is a ship leaving for the west. Go now, before it’s too late.”

Killian shook his head once more. “I have made my choice.”

Liam sighed, standing, leaning against the rail and looking out over the sea. “Killian, she’s not coming back. Why do you linger here when there’s no hope?”

“There is  _ always _ hope.”

Liam turned back toward him smiling sadly. He muttered something about his brother’s stubbornness, before sobering once more.

“Killian, if Emma comes to believe, you will still be parted,” Liam said, “If the Dark One is defeated and Emma made queen and all that you hope for comes true, she will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality.”

Killian took a deep, ragged breath, thinking about what his brother was saying.

“You know I speak the truth, Killian,” Liam pressed on. “Emma  _ will  _ die, and there will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of her passing. You, brother, will linger on in darkness and doubt, bound to your grief until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent. Killian, there is nothing for you here, only death.”

The darkness, the depression felt like a heavy cloak settled in around him. In his mind’s eye, Killian pictured it, pictured having to stand by and watch as they buried her--whether that horrible day was next week, or even decades from now. He pictured the years passing, until he alone came to her grave, until all the world had long forgotten her. No torture the Dark One could conceive of in his twisted mind could be worse.

Liam sat back upon the bench, once again placing a comforting hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Do I not also have your love?”

The fight left Killian. Emma had banished him from her presence, had in fact threatened him with bodily harm should he approach her again. Perhaps it would be best if he stopped fighting. 

“You have my love, brother,” Killian said.

“So you’ll take the ship into the west?” Liam pressed.

Killian was silent for a long moment. What use had he been to Emma? To his kingdom? To his brother? He’d done nothing but push those he loved away and made it more difficult to defeat their enemy. Perhaps he didn’t deserve his happiness. Perhaps the best he could hope for would be the peace he could achieve after moving on.

“Aye, Liam,” he said finally, nodding even as the last piece of his heart shattered, “I’ll go.”

_ Notes: _

_ \--Sorry? Writing angst has never been my sweet spot (as is probably obvious from the fact that I have a 150 chapter collection called Fluffy Fridays), but as I said in the opening note, I promise this pain was necessary. It’s leading toward  _ the _ scene that inspired this whole story, the scene that I’ve been dying to write since this thing began almost a year ago. Hopefully that payoff (coming in the next chapter!) will make this momentary pain worth it. _

_ \--I have to again apologize for the unbelievable delay in posting this chapter. It’s just that between my grandma passing away at the end of last month, and all the horrible things happening in the world, it’s been hard to motivate myself to write. But writing, losing myself in a different world, has been somewhat therapeutic, and, though I’ve learned not to make any guarantees, I’m going to do my level best to force myself to write on a more regular basis. With any luck, you’ll get the resolution of this angst within the next couple weeks. _

_ \--I can’t take credit for the vast majority of the conversation Liam had with Killian in the final scene. I took most of it, almost word for word, from the scene (I think it’s in Two Towers?) where Elrond convinces Arwen to go with the elves into Valinor. _

_ \--Up next: In the past, Snow and Charming get some welcome news, and it inspires them to set a plan into motion that will hopefully save their kingdom and defeat the Dark One once and for all. In the present, heavy-hearted, Killian begins his journey to his ultimate reward, but a vision of his future might just change everything. _


	11. There is Also Life

_Misthaven, 21 years ago_

David glanced out the window of Misthaven castle and caught sight of Snow, dressed in a lovely lacy black dress and black veil, standing beside the white, marble tomb of her father. She held a single white rose in her hand, which she placed gently upon the encased casket. He saw the moment she broke, falling on top of the tomb, embracing it as though trying to embrace her lost father, sobbing as though she’d never be happy again.

The sight broke him, and he rushed from the room and down to the courtyard to offer his wife whatever comfort he could. His heart ached for his love. He knew from very recent experience just how agonizing it was to lose a parent in an act of violence. It felt like a vital part of your heart had been ripped away and the resulting hole would never be filled.

“I’m so sorry, Snow,” David said, feeling helpless as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. At the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand, Snow turned around, and his heart broke a little more to see the tear tracks on her face, the absolute devastation in her eyes.

“I loved him _so_ much,” she sobbed, falling into his arms.

He held her tight, feeling her hot tears against the column of his throat and aching to do something, anything, to take this pain away. “I know, my love, I know.”

“What are we going to do?” she asked. “What are we going to _do_?”

David took a deep breath, hugging her tight for another moment before stepping back, his hands still on her shoulders. “You take the time you need to grieve,” he said gently, “and in the meantime, I’ll continue directing our people as we rebuild.”

It had been one week since the attack on Misthaven, and though clean-up efforts were well underway, there was still much work to do.

After their struggle with the shadows in the forest, the Jones brothers had quickly extinguished the fire, and then the four of them had cautiously returned to the castle. The scene that met them was well-nigh indescribable. So many had perished, their shadows ripped from their bodies. Windows were broken, rooms ransacked, no room saved from the looting and destruction.

But the shadows--all the shadows--were gone. The best David could tell, they all dissolved when Snow trapped the main shadow in the fire.

Snow had been distressed at the sight of her broken and destroyed home, but nothing could have prepared her for the moment when a grave-looking Merlin pulled them aside and told them that her father had perished in the battle. Snow had screamed, falling to the ground in her shock and agony. Merlin had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and murmured his condolences.

Unable to deal with the magnitude of the damage around them, David had merely scooped his devastated wife into his arms and taken her back to their room; his only aim that night was comforting Snow, and helping her through this first night of anguish.

In the morning, Snow was not yet ready to leave her room, but David had no choice but to do so. With the king dead, and princess incapacitated with grief, it fell to David, soon to be crowned the new king, to lead his people. To say David felt overwhelmed, would be a massive understatement. For all his life, he’d been simply a shepherd. He’d never been called upon to lead more than his flock of sheep, and suddenly he was thrust into leadership of a nation in the midst of a crisis.

It was a lot to deal with.

But David loved his new home and his new people, and he loved his new wife more than anything in any realm, and he was determined to rise to the occasion. It would be some time before her heart would heal from the death of her father, and there was little he could do about that, but there was plenty he could do to help heal the castle and their people.

He’d taken charge, meeting with grieving families, overseeing funerals and burial planning. He’d directed servants in the clean up of the mess of the castle and found elves to replace and rebuild structural damage.

One person he couldn’t find, no matter how hard he tried, was Merlin. He couldn’t help but feel more than a little frustration at the wizard’s absence. For most of that first day, not only couldn’t he find Merlin, he couldn’t even find anyone who knew anything about his absence. Finally, as twilight fell, he managed to find a scroll left in Merlin’s room. He read it’s contents, feeling more off balance and more concerned the more he read:

_My King and Queen,_

_My deepest condolences for your losses last night. My foresight, as you know, is imprecise and hazy. I knew the Dark One would one day attempt to regain the sword, but I had no idea the attempt would come so soon._

_I must offer my apologies for leaving so abruptly, but I promise it was necessary. If the Dark One has chosen to act, it can only mean that he has plans already in motion. I shudder to think what those plans might be, but even more, I fear to think of the dire consequences to our kingdom should we be caught unawares as to what those plans might be. I must leave this moment to learn all I can of the events the Dark One has set in motion and exactly how we can counter them._

_In the meantime, take care of yourselves; heal, grieve, and above all, hide Excalibur. Should a second attempt at its theft be successful, all the brave men and women who perished today did so in vain._

_Sincerely,_

_Merlin._

A pit formed in David’s stomach as the implications of the Dark One’s attack became clear to him. This attack wasn’t a singular event, but the first salvo in a war, and the stakes of that war, were no less than significant than the very survival of the world as they knew it.

As David walked Snow back to the castle after finding her at her father’s tomb, he felt his concern harden into resolve. The stakes were high, yes, but so was their strength. They would win this fight, come what may, and the world that would emerge from the ashes would be more beautiful than ever.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Misthaven, one month later_

Snow pushed back from the table, her breakfast barely touched. Her stomach rolled at the smell of the coffee David preferred, at the sight of the breads and fruits that were the standard fare for breakfast in Misthaven. She’d been suffering from a strange sort of stomach bug for the past week at least. It wasn’t a constant concern, the nausea coming and going at odd intervals.

She stood, and a wave of light-headedness washed over her. Reaching out, she steadied herself against the wall.

“Snow?” David asked, looking at her with concern. “Are you alright?”

She waved away his concern. “I’m fine, David,” she assured, “I just seem to be having more trouble shaking off this stomach indisposition than usual.”

David got to his feet, coming to steady her with gentle hands. Her reassurances didn’t seem to calm him. If anything he looked even more concerned.

“Snow, this has been going on for more than a week,” he said, “perhaps we’d best consult Johanna and her healers.”

“I promise there’s no need,” Snow began. “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I just…”

A commotion in the great hall interrupted her insistence, and a moment later, Merlin appeared in their chambers.

It had been just over a month now since the attack on Misthaven. Though much had returned to normal in the castle since that fateful day--albeit with a significant increase in security measures--Merlin had not returned nor even sent word regarding his mission.

Snow had felt more than a little anxiety at his continued absence, given the gravity of the situation in which they found themselves, but his sudden appearance did nothing to calm her mind.

He looked alarmed, perhaps even afraid.

“Merlin?” David asked, “What news do you have?”

“Is it safe?” Merlin asked, his gaze intent. “The sword; is it safe?”

“Of course,” Snow answered. “It remains under your enchantment, and we’ve kept it hidden within our very chambers. Should anything have happened to it, we would know.”

“Bring it to me,” Merlin said, “without delay.”

Snow and David exchanged bewildered glances, but finally Snow shrugged and David moved aside a chest of drawers on the far side of their room. Stooping down, he dislodged the false floorboard below and retrieved Excalibur.

As soon as David handed the blade to the sorcerer, Merlin tossed it into the fire. Snow called out, making a motion to reach for it, but Merlin stopped her with a gentle hand.

“Fear not, Your Majesty,” Merlin said, “an ordinary fire cannot harm this blade, only reveal its secrets.”

After a moment, Merlin stooped down, and with a pair of tongues, pulled Excalibur from the flames. 

“Take it,” Merlin said, holding Excalibur out to her. “Do not fear; it’s quite cool.”

Snow gasped as the sword touched her hands. It was indeed as cool as it would be if it had never approached the fire.

“Look at it,” Merlin directed.

Snow obeyed, and then gasped. Aside from the black decorative designs, there now appeared a single word, a single name. _Rumplestiltskin._

“The Dark One’s name?” David asked. “What does it signify?”

“It’s as I feared,” Merlin said. “We knew, of course, that the blade was the source of the Dark One’s power, but the fact that his name now appears within it proves that his power is growing, and the power of the darkness has now fully consumed him.”

Snow’s heart began pounding, her fear spiking. “But he’s trapped within his cell, his shadow destroyed within the fire. How could his power grow?”

Merlin began pacing, taking long moments to answer. Finally he turned to face them.

“The Dark One may be contained physically in his cell,” Merlin conceded, “but that doesn’t mean his influence is similarly contained. In my journeys, I discovered that he’s quickly gaining allies, servants too weak or corrupt to resist his empty promises. With every day, his army of willing sycophants grows. But what he wants above all, is Misthaven.”

“We’ll never bow to the darkness!” Snow said, voice raising. “Never!”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty,” Merlin agreed. “You’ll never willingly surrender, but the Dark One hopes with his freedom secured--should he gain possession of this blade--and with an overwhelming army amassed, he can overpower even the most magically powerful kingdom of Misthaven. If he can’t bend you to his will, he will take it by force.”

“We cannot let that happen!” David growled. “I’ll lay down my life defending my kingdom if I must, as would every elf within Misthaven’s borders!”

Merlin nodded in encouragement. “I’ve no doubt of that. Let’s hope, however it doesn’t come to that.”

“So,” Snow said, “you said he must take Excalibur in order to obtain his freedom. He’s failed to do so more than once, and now we’ve secured it with more protection than ever. Surely he can’t believe we’d allow another thief to slip past our defenses.”

“That was indeed my thought,” Merlin agreed, “but I sensed not defeat after the Shadow’s plot was foiled, but rather further resolve, perhaps even optimism. It’s why I’ve been away for such an extended period. I had to determine what it was that gave the Dark One his confidence.”

“And?” Snow asked with more than a little impatient. 

“A curse,” Merlin answered. “The Dark One has obtained a powerful dark curse which he plans to cast over Misthaven. The curse will prevent any from leaving your kingdom, and more specifically, it will wipe your memories. You will forget who you are, _what_ you are, who you’re fighting against and why.”

“It sounds terrible,” David said, “but I fail to see what he hopes to gain from such a move.”

“It will neutralize Misthaven,” Merlin answered. “With your memories wiped, the last bastion of resistance to him will be neutralized. If he cannot defeat you--and he is not yet strong enough to overrun your powerful light magical defenses--he can grow in strength and allies. He can search for the blade unimpeded.”

Snow felt a dread, strong and powerful descend over her. How could they possibly fight against such evil? “Is...is there no hope?” She asked in a small voice.

For the first time that day, Merlin smiled. “My lady, there is _always_ hope. As you know, I can see the future, hazy though my visions may be, and I see a way forward.”

“What?” David asked. Snow could hear the frustration in his voice, and she shared it. “What is this way forward? How do we stop the curse? How do we fight against it?”

“As to the curse,” Merlin said, shaking his head somberly, “it _will_ be cast. There is no way to stop it. As to our way to fight against it, I strongly suspect that is already in motion.”

Snow expelled a long, frustrated breath. “Merlin why must you always speak in riddles? _What _ is already in motion?”

“There is a prophecy,” Merlin said. “A savior will be born eight months hence. Upon her twenty-eighth birthday, she will break the curse, and with the help of the youngest Jones, she shall end the reign of the Dark One for once and all.”

Merlin paused, looking intently at Snow.

“That child, that savior,” he finally continued, “_your_ child was conceived one month past, on the night of the attack on Misthaven.”

A wave of emotions crashed over Snow. The nausea, the lightheadedness, the fatigue. Was it possible? Was she with child?

“Snow?” David asked, hope and joy covering his face, “is it true?”

“I think it must be,” Snow answered, tears filling her eyes and spilling over. “Charming, we’re going to have a baby!”

Merlin gave them a moment to bask in their happiness before he spoke up again. “It is very true, Your Majesties. Before the year’s end, you will have a daughter, and that daughter will change everything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Misthaven, several months later_

David entered their spacious chambers, his eyes immediately searching out his wife. He found her where he thought he would--standing on their balcony, looking out at the sunset. She’d changed into her favorite white cotton nightgown, and she absently caressed her distended belly.

His heart ached. The decisions made at the council this afternoon were the right choices; he knew that. But he and his beloved wife--especially her--would pay an astronomical price.

He’d entered the chamber quietly, in case she’d already taken to their bed, but she seemed to sense his presence, turning toward him. The tears in her eyes, spilling down her face almost broke him, but he must remain strong for her; he must. And so he smiled tenderly at her, opening his arms. She rushed toward him--as quickly as she could in her advanced stage of pregnancy--threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into the crook of his neck.

For long moments, David simply held her, letting her cry, shedding a few tears himself. But finally her tears were spent. Taking a deep, shaky breath and slowly letting it out, Snow pulled back, looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“Are we really doing the right thing, Charming?” she asked softly.

“We’re doing the only thing, my love,” he answered.

Following Merlin’s revelation about the Dark One’s plans for a dark curse, they’d spent quite some time looking for a solution, a way to stop his plan from being implemented, a way to fight against it should it happen, more information of what the curse might mean for them.

There had never before been such a thing as this dark curse Rumplestiltskin possessed, so information about how to guard against it was virtually non-existent. Through copious research and consultation with others well-versed in the ways of magic, Merlin had finally learned what the curse would mean for them practically.

Each new piece of information was more troubling than the last.

Once the curse was cast, the borders of Misthaven would be shut. No one within Misthaven would be able to leave; only those with the strongest of magic would be able to enter.. Those within the curse’s purview would have their memories wiped, to be replaced with an entirely new set of memories meant to keep them from finding true happiness or love. Loved ones would be separated, magic would be gone. What was perhaps even more disturbing, time would be stopped. They’d be forced to live the same day over and over again for all eternity.

It was Granny who realized just how perilous the stopping of time would be. With time stopped, Snow would either remain pregnant for all eternity, or, if the curse hit after the baby’s birth, the child would remain a child forever. Without time passing, the child would never reach her twenty-eighth birthday, and thus would never have the chance to be the savior.

By stopping time, the Dark One had ensured their cursed state would remain for all eternity.

There was another complication that Graham brought to their attention. If their memories were wiped, they’d no longer realize the need to guard Excalibur or hide it from the Dark One’s minions.

It would seem the Dark One had thought of everything, and they were powerless to stop it.

The one thing yet on their side was time. Merlin had learned that the Dark One needed yet one more ingredient--the hardest to obtain--in order to cast the curse. Merlin could not ascertain _what_ that ingredient might be, but as long as the Dark One had yet to obtain it, they still had time to create and implement a plan.

What followed were several tense weeks of waiting, searching, and hoping against hope, but finally, _finally_ Merlin had returned to court last night, a triumphant smile on his face. He’d done it; he’d found a loophole.

And so this afternoon, the whole council had convened to hear what Merlin had to say.

“I’m afraid there is no way to stop the curse from being cast,” Merlin had begun, “but I believe I have found a solution to protect the savior.”

Through his research, Merlin learned of a previously unknown property of Excalibur--it had the ability to create portals to distant realms. Such voyages were not unknown to the elves of misthaven. There existed magic beans that likewise had the ability to create portals. What was singular to Excalibur, however, was its ability to seal the portal behind itself, leaving no trace of its user’s location.

“There is one downside,” Merlin had stated. “The opening of portals expends an enormous amount of magical energy. It will be days, maybe even weeks before the sword will have built up enough energy for another portal. We’ll have but one opportunity to use it, and the portal it will create will be strong enough to transport one person and one person alone. What’s more, its use must be timed perfectly, for magic of that magnitude will draw the eye of the Dark One upon us. We mustn’t allow him to know our plans too early or all could be lost. The portal must be opened just as the Dark One is casting the curse.”

“Surely, you’re not suggesting my wife and I send our newborn daughter through a portal alone!” David growled.

“Not alone, no,” Merlin said, “With her mother. So long as she has not yet given birth, the portal can take them both.”

There were yet more logistical details to iron out--if Queen Snow and her unborn baby could travel through the portal, they could take Excalibur with them, but with the sword going through the portal, they would not be able to use it to seal the portal, leaving them vulnerable to being followed by the Dark One’s minions--but David found it hard to focus.

Merlin was asking him to send his wife and unborn daughter through a portal to a distant realm, a realm he couldn’t follow. Merlin was asking him to give up his true love, his family for twenty-eight long, interminable years.

David saw by the look in her eyes, that Snow was feeling a similar agony at the prospect. She’d abruptly risen from her seat at the table, murmuring something about feeling unwell and needing rest, before she’d rushed from the chamber. David had wanted to follow her immediately, to comfort her and receive comfort from her, but it was his duty as king to see this council meeting through.

But the second it was dismissed he rushed to his wife’s side.

Back in the present, Snow stepped back into his arms, laying her head against his shoulder this time. “I know it’s our only option now,” Snow said finally, “and I’ll do what I have to do for my kingdom and for our baby, but I don’t know how I’ll bear it.”

David took in a deep, ragged breath. They’d been together for not quite a year yet, and already they were facing separation. She’d be forced to give birth alone and afraid in a strange land, a land where magic was seen as a mere myth. He’d miss out on his daughter’s entire childhood, all her milestones, all her little moments. It was almost more than he could bear.

“I hate this too, Snow,” he finally said, “but we have to have hope that this plan will work; that we’ll see each other again. We’ve endured difficult moments before, moments where it seemed like all hope was lost, but we’ve always persevered. This time will be no different.”

She pulled back, looking into his face. She gave him a sad but determined smile. “You’re right, Charming. I thought I lost you before, but I’ve always found you in the past, and this time will be no different. When the twenty-eight years are up, I’ll return to Misthaven, and I will find you. I will always find you.”

And so she would. Of that, David had no doubt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, present_

Emma walked up the flight of stairs and paused on the landing of her--no, _Killian’s_\--apartment. She took a deep breath, not sure what she would say, what she would do. She knocked quickly and waited as her heart began pounding again.

She’d told him she’d return for her things the next day when he was at work, but when the next day came, she couldn’t quite bring herself to return to the loft apartment, couldn’t face the possibility that he might be there and she might have to face him again. And so she’d stayed away, put off the inevitable for another day.

Now it was three days later, and she didn’t even know what she wanted or how she wanted it to happen anymore. But she knew sneaking in during the day when Killian was at work was the coward’s way of dealing with the situation, and she was determined not to be a coward. Instead, she’d waited until the evening came, so that she could talk to Killian and then she’d--well, she didn’t know what she planned to do.

She’d been heartbroken when she ran from the apartment utterly crushed. Somehow she’d given her heart to Killian before she even knew what was happening, and he’d stomped on it.

But as time passed, the initial rush of emotions had faded and she’d been able to get a little perspective.

Killian had told her that he loved her, and Emma’s superpower had backed it up. Whatever else might be going on, he did love her. So if he loved her, why would he try to push her away by being deliberately cruel? Why would he try to push her away at all?

What’s more, Emma’s superpower had been clear about his totally insane comments about being an elf and coming from a different realm and all the rest of it. He _believed_ it. He was totally and utterly convinced of it.

Which left only one possibility: he was crazy and he really believed what he was saying to her. If anything, that prospect scared her more.

During the days, she’d managed to push the whole messy situation to the back of her mind, immersed as she was in her work, but at night...at night, things were different. As she lay in her uncomfortable hotel room bed, her mind went back to Killian, to all he’d done for her, to all they’d shared, to how _happy_ they’d been just a few days ago.

She _missed _him. She ached with it.

She’d run; it’s what she did when things got difficult. She ran, and she’d never before regretted it. Never, that is, until now. Now, she _missed _him, and she couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing him again.

So this morning, Emma had made the decision. She was going to go back to the apartment and talk things out with Killian. What she would say to him; what she wanted to happen next, she didn’t know. All she knew was that she didn’t want to live a life without Killian--not when she had a choice in the matter.

Now she could only hope he’d be willing to talk to her after the way she’d run out the other day.

There was no answer to her knock, so she tried again, pounding harder this time.

Still nothing.

Emma’s heart sank. It was unusual for him to be out and about in the evening, but clearly tonight was an exception. No matter. She’d decided to talk things out with Killian, and talk things out she would, even if she had to come by every day until she finally found him at home.

Killian had slowly knocked down the walls around her heart, and though she’d shored them up in the immediate shock of his admissions, she was determined to never let them go up fully again. He had to come back sometime, right? And when he did, they’d work through this together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_The Enchanted Forest, present day_

Killian walked slowly, laboriously through the forest with his elven companions. With every step he took, he felt his heart shatter a little bit more. From his youth, he’d heard stories of the delights of Valinor. It was said to be a land of beauty and peace beyond his wildest dreams. And yet, without Emma, he knew it would feel flat, incomplete.

He felt the tears threatening again, but with an act of will, he swallowed them back. He had made his choice. He had agreed to this. It would be bad form to sulk about it now.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Killian spotted a small boy with a messy mop of dark brown hair and sparking green eyes. The child laughed as he ran through the forest. Killian looked around at his companions, but none seemed to notice the child. 

How very strange.

Killian turned his attention back to the boy, and suddenly, all around him, the forest faded away, to be replaced by--was that the great hall of Misthaven castle? The boy ran to a woman who waited for him at the far end of the hall. She picked him up when he reached her, laughing, kissing his small cheeks, spinning him around. When the woman turned and Killian could see her for the first time, he stopped dead in his tracks, heart racing.

_Emma_.

Just as he was about to call out to her, to rush to her side, the child in her arms turned and looked straight at him. The late afternoon sun glinted off of a ring the child wore on a chain around his neck, and Killian gasped. That was _his_ ring! The ring Liam had given him long ago, to ward him against danger!

“Lieutenant Jones,” August said, “we cannot delay.”

Killian ignored him as emotions filled him, strong and undeniable. Without a word, he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian burst through the doors of the forest outpost where he’d left his brother and rushed to Liam.

“Brother, tell me what you have seen!” Killian demanded.

Liam sent him a wary glance. “Killian--”

“I know you saw something,” Killian insisted. “I know upon occasion you have the gift of foresight. What did you see in my future?”

Liam sent him a long glance, and then sighed, turning to look out the window. “I looked into your future, and I saw death.”

Killian turned his brother toward him. “But that’s not all you saw! There is also life. You saw there was a child. You saw my son, mine and Emma’s.”

Liam closed his eyes, looking almost pained. “Yes Killian. If you and Emma were to remain together, a son would soon be born to you, but that future is far from certain. That future is almost gone.”

“It may be almost gone,” Killian said with resolve, “but it is not lost.”

“Killian, nothing is certain,” Liam tried again.

Killian felt the hope, the joy bubble up in him in a way he hadn’t felt since August’s visit to him in the Land Without Magic.

“Brother,” Killian said, “some things _are_ certain: If I leave her now, I will regret it forever.”

For long moments, Liam simply looked at him until finally the pain in his eyes turned to resignation. Liam nodded, handing his brother a sparkly, translucent magic bean. “Then do what you must. I’ll retrieve Excalibur and seal the portal after you.”

“Thank you, Liam,” Killian said, clapping his hand on his brother’s shoulder and then tossing the bean to the ground and watching as a deep, dark, swirling chasm opened up beside him. His heart felt light as he jumped, vowing with everything within him that nothing in any realm would ever separate him from his love again.

_Notes:_

_\--Can you believe it? An update within a week of the last chapter! I felt bad about the angst I left you with last time, so I was determined to get the resolution set in motion as soon as possible._

_\--The last scene (and a fair amount of the dialogue) came directly from the scene in The Return of the King where Arwen starts to leave with the elves for Valinor, but then she sees a vision of Aragorn and their future son. This was it, guys. This was the scene that set my entire story in motion. I’ve been looking forward to writing it for a while now._

_\--Up next: In the flashback, the Misthaven elves come up with a solution to their Excalibur dilemma. The Jones brothers end up meeting Robin Hood and his Merry Men (aka, my story’s version of hobbits) in Sherwood Forest. Meanwhile, back in his dungeon, Rumplestiltskin has found the last ingredient he needs to cast his curse. In the present, Killian returns to Emma, and their reunion may just have far-reaching consequences._


	12. Concerning Merry Men

_Enchanted Forest, 21 years ago_

“Merry Men are a peaceful people, lovers of nature and the simple things in life. They revere justice and kindness above all, but they are more than capable of defending themselves vigorously when called upon to do so,” Liam explained to his company of knights as they made their way toward Nottingham Forest. “They are a race of hobbits, but you’ll find them far different from the hobbits with which you are familiar. In appearance they are nearly indistinguishable from human men and women, yet they are blessed with the longer life-span of the hobbit. Legend has it, the ancestors of the Merry Men intermarried with elves, which would explain their differences to others within their species.”

Liam droned on and on, but Killian couldn’t focus on his brother’s lecture.

In truth, he was still reeling over all the events of the last few months. He remembered the first time he sailed as a young lad. The feeling of vertigo, of being just slightly off balance until he got his sea legs under him, was something he’d never forget. It was what he was feeling now.

How did one wrap his mind around being at the center of a prophecy like this? The Savior would save their kingdom and their entire world with his help. What help was he to give her? How was he to provide this aid if he didn’t even know what it was? What if he failed? The thought of being the hope of an entire civilization hung heavily on him.

And then there was the other task with which he, Liam and the other knights had been tasked. Killian felt the broken sword knock his leg from beneath his coat where he had hidden it. It was an awesome and overwhelming responsibility the Jones brothers had been given.

The Misthaven counsel had wrestled for some time with the logistical problems they faced in the wake of the Dark One’s impending curse. How were they to seal the portal they created for Queen Snow and her unborn baby if Excalibur went with them to the Land Without Magic? How were they to keep the blade safe if it wasn’t sent with the royals?

Ultimately, it was a question of Liam’s that led to the solution.

“Your Highnesses, Merlin, what would happen if the sword was broken?” Liam asked.

“Broken?” King David asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

Liam turned toward Merlin. “You told us the sword is the source of the Dark One’s power. If we were to destroy the blade, would that also destroy his power?”

Merlin was silent, thoughtful for a long moment, but then he shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not so simple. The sword can be broken, yes, but it cannot be destroyed, at least not without paying the heaviest of prices.”

The fellowship seemed clearly downcast at that revelation, but suddenly Merlin gasped.

“Perhaps, Captain Jones,” he said, “you have inadvertently stumbled upon a solution after all. No, breaking the sword cannot destroy the Dark One’s power, but it can weaken it. Each portion of the sword would contain but part of the power. The Dark One would need to obtain both halves in order to retake his power.”

“Would one portion alone have sufficient power to open and seal a portal to the Land Without Magic?” Snow asked. 

“Aye,” Merlin said. “It would be more risky, but I believe it could be managed. What are your thoughts, Your Highness?”

Snow stood with difficulty due to her rapidly expanding midsection. Turning to look at each member of the council around the table in turn, Snow continued excitedly. “Don’t you see? Wherever the sword is, we risk the Dark One or his minions taking it back by force, but if we break it, we have the ability to make it even more difficult to obtain. Send one portion to the Land Without Magic with Emma and me, and send the other...somewhere else. I know not where. That way, even if the Dark One finds and takes one portion, the other is still secreted away from him.”

With a portion of the sword still within the Enchanted Forest, even if it wasn’t physically at hand, Merlin would be capable of using the remainder to open and seal the portal before sending it through with the queen and unborn princess.

It was a good plan, the entire council agreed on that, and it was what led the Jones brothers and a hand-selected small group of knights to make the journey they were currently making.

The council had decided that the larger portion of the sword would be taken by the Jones brothers to Nottingham Forest, the home of the Merry Men. It would be safe there, out of the curse’s purview. The Jones brothers and their chosen band would escape the curse, and thus retain their memories. They’d be capable of protecting the broken sword, and they’d be ready to assist Queen Snow and Princess Emma when the time to break the curse and defeat the Dark One drew near.

“But why Nottingham Forest?” August asked as they continued their journey. “Why Merry Men? I’d barely even heard of them before this plan was devised.”

“Don’t you see?” Liam asked excitedly. “It’s the beautiful genius of the plan. The Dark One understands only power, control. It makes him a formidable adversary, but it may also prove to be his weakness. The Dark One will dismiss the Merry Men as small, powerless, as far from a threat to him and his rule as one can find. Nottingham Forest, the whole of Nottingham shire, is not beyond the Dark One’s reach, but it will be the last place he will expect the resistance to be found.”

“Liam’s right,” Killian said. “Arrogance will be the Dark One’s downfall, arrogance and greed. There is no better place to bide our time.”

Liam gave him a grateful look. “Thank you, Killian. I appreciate your support.”

“Don’t you know, brother?” Killian said, “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Nottingham Forest, around 21 years ago_

Robin Hood grinned as Friar Tuck, the man of the hour, stood up in front of the assembly to begin what was sure to be a long speech. Beside him, his wife tutted, muttering under her breath about windbags boring her to death. Robin’s grin widened.

When his first wife, Marian, passed away five years ago, just after the birth of their only child, Roland, Robin had fallen into a deep pit of melancholy, believing he’d never be truly happy again, but as so often happens, little by little he’d found reasons to smile again--listening to his infant son’s laugh, watching Roland take his first steps, the camaraderie he held with his merry men, the peace and serenity of their life in the shire.

Bad things happened. Such was life, but those bad things didn’t have to define one’s life. There was still plenty of happiness out there for anyone who wanted to pursue it.

Never had he felt this philosophy more strongly than the day he met Regina. An elf from the land of Misthaven, Regina had been quite powerful, but power corrupts, and Regina had been far less than content with the life she’d led.

She wanted to be queen.

She’d held a particular animosity toward the then crown princess, Snow White, due to a tragedy Snow had unwittingly set into motion when she was but a child. Regina had been filled with a hatred and malice fueled by pain. To that end, she’d attempted a coup upon the king of Misthaven--a coup that she’d had every intention of being fatal to the young princess.

Regina had been foiled in her attempt, and while some within the court of Misthaven had advocated for her death as a result, in the end the king had been merciful, merely banishing her from Misthaven.

For years, decades even, Regina had wandered the land aimlessly, but three years ago, she’d come upon the shire of Nottingham Forest. The Merry Men had been understandably wary of the elf, her reputation preceded her, after all, and her sharp tongue and ready insults did not do much to win her friends.

But from the first, Robin saw something more in her. She’d been a villain, there was no denying, and she had her faults still, but what being among them--elf, man or hobbit alike--could claim to be fully blameless? Underneath her prickly exterior, Robin could discern a good heart, a capacity to love and protect fiercely. Perhaps if she was given a bit of grace, even she could turn her life around.

To that end, Robin Hood had offered Regina a place in the shire. Robin grinned thinking of her initial skepticism at his offer. She’d maintained they smelled of forest and asked if they bathed with pine cones.

Always ready with a quip or a snarky remark, was his Regina.

Robin hadn’t pushed, letting the offer stand, yet letting her make her own decision on whether or not she would remain with them.

In the end, Robin believed it was Roland, naught but a toddler at the time, who had won Regina over. She’d been good with the lad from the very start, and he clearly adored her. In fact, in a bit of a blow to his ego, “‘Gina” had been Roland’s first word. Regina had since confessed to him that she was unable to bear children, but that in her heart was a hole she suspected would never be filled without a child of her own.

And so Regina had stayed, slowly becoming an accepted and even respected member of their community.

Robin had far more than respected her. In a far shorter time than he would have expected, he fell deeply, passionately in love with her. One year to the day after she’d appeared in Nottingham Forest, Regina and Robin were wed, the ceremony performed by none other than Friar Tuck himself, the man in whose honor they held their party this evening.

“My dear Merry Men,” Friar Tuck began. 

“Hey!” came the yell from someone in the crowd.

“And women,” Tuck amended with a good natured grin, “Today is my one-hundred and eleventh birthday!”

A tremendous cheer erupted from the crowd. As hobbits, the Merry Men lived far shorter lives than the elves. Still, one hundred eleven was quite the ripe old age for one within their company.

“Alas!” Tuck continued, “Eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits.”

Another cheer, even more enthusiastic than the first.

“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like,” Tuck went on, a twinkle in his eye, “and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”

There was quiet among the assembly as they attempted to work out just what he’d said, but to his side, Regina snorted a laugh, clearly appreciating the complicated insult.

Robin put an arm around his wife, keeping an eye on his son as he played with a group of children a few feet away, as Tuck continued, seeming to only be at the beginning of this year’s birthday speech.

It had been a tremendous celebration so far. There had been feasting, music, dancing, even a few fireworks. The Merry Men were always ready for a good celebration, and none was as elaborate or enjoyable as those thrown in honor of their friar’s birthday.

Robin was settling in, preparing for a _long_ speech, when suddenly he was approached by Mulan, whose turn it was tonight to stand guard. She wore a troubled expression, and Robin was immediately on his guard.

“Is something amiss, Mulan?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said, “a company of elven knights approaches.” She paused for a moment, glancing at Regina. “They bear the crest of Misthaven.”

Regina gasped, and Robin felt his heart pound. Aside from Regina, no resident of Misthaven had ever approached their camp. What could they possibly want?

“They’re after me,” Regina said, a grim set to her mouth. “Will I never be free of the label of villain? I knew it was too good to be true that they’d leave me in peace.”

Robin grabbed his bow and got to his feet. “A villain you may have been but you are a villain no more. You are my wife, and I will fight for you to my dying breath.”

“I’m more than capable of defending myself against a few elven knights,” Regina retorted, “but even so, I appreciate your help.”

“What are your orders, sir?” Mulan asked.

Robin thought for a moment. It was a situation that must be dealt with, but he didn’t wish to disturb the party or escalate any more than was necessary.

“Stay here,” Robin said finally. “You and Merida continue to guard the camp, but don’t alert our soldiers to the potential threat unless I give you the signal.”

Mulan nodded. “As you wish.”

“And what do you propose we do?” Regina asked as Mulan stepped away.

“See what they want, to begin,” Robin said, asking Little John to keep an eye on Roland and then walking in the direction Mulan had indicated. Grim expression firmly in place, Regina followed him, ready, Robin knew, to let the fireballs fly should the situation warrant it.

Robin and Regina made their way quickly but quietly to the borders of Nottingham Forest where Mulan had directed them. As reported, a small company--maybe fifteen knights--were awaiting him. Robin’s first instinct upon seeing them was to relax. Something about the way the knights held themselves, the fact that none of them were currently holding weapons, the pleasant, almost friendly expressions on their faces made Robin believe whatever brought the knights to their border did not bode them any immediate harm.

Robin turned toward the man in front, the one who appeared to be the leader. “You’ve reached the borders of my land, Sherwood Forest,” he said. “We are a peaceful people who like to keep to ourselves, but if you’ve come in peace, you’re welcome.”

The leader stepped forward and nodded to him. “We do indeed come in peace. I am Captain Liam Jones of Misthaven. This is my brother Lieutenant Killian Jones along with a company of our men. If I’m not mistaken, I’m addressing Robin Hood?”

“You are,” Robin said slowly, a bit taken aback at the fact this soldier seemed to already know him.

“And your wife needs no introduction,” Captain Jones said, bowing toward Regina. “Regina, it has been a long time.”

At his side, Regina bristled, and Robin could feel the restless energy in her. “I’ve stuck to the terms of my banishment,” she said through clenched teeth. “Queen Snow has no right to send her goons to attack me!”

The younger Jones brother seemed to bristle at the insult, stepping forward and reaching for his sword, but the captain stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Killian, let me handle this,” he said softly to his brother.

Killian Jones looked on the point of arguing, but finally stepped back in deference to his brother’s--and commander’s--order.

“I assure you, my lady,” Captain Jones said with a placating motion of the hand, “we have no intention of doing any such thing. Queen Snow is well aware of your adherence to her father’s orders. She knows how far you’ve come in turning your life around, and she wishes you well.”

Robin felt Regina relax at his side.

“I’m most glad to hear it,” Robin said, “but if you’ve not come for my wife, what brings you to Sherwood Forest?”

“A matter of utmost urgency, a matter that affects not only Misthaven, but the whole of the Enchanted Forest.”

Captain Jones gestured to his brother, and the lieutenant pulled a wavy, ornately carved broken sword from his scabbard.

“Excalibur!” Regina breathed.

“Indeed,” Captain Jones nodded.

“Why is it here? Why is it _broken? _What is going on back in Misthaven?” Regina demanded, stepping forward to look more closely at the blade, “And why does it bear the Dark One’s name?”

“All will be revealed,” the captain said, “but suffice it to say we are all in grave danger should this sword fall into the wrong hands.”

Robin was silent for a moment before stepping forward. “Perhaps we’d best adjourn to my tent. It appears we have a lot to discuss.”

An hour later Captain Liam and Lieutenant Killian emerged from Robin and Regina’s tent, approached their waiting men, and gave orders to begin making camp. Back in the tent, Regina gave Robin a troubled look. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing allowing them to stay here with the sword?” she asked.

“Truth be told,” Robin answered, “I don’t know for sure, but I believe so. They made a hell of a case. Their presence, and especially that of the sword, might increase our danger, but as they said, if Rumplestiltskin gets the dagger, our entire world is doomed.”

Regina frowned, a look that used to strike terror in the elves of Misthaven. “If Rumplestiltskin even _tries_, I’ll make him wish he’d never been born.”

Robin laughed, leaning down to kiss his wife. “I believe you would, my love. I believe you would.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Land Without Magic, present day_

Killian landed with a thud onto the forest floor. He got to his feet, rubbing the elbow that had landed on a tree root. Surely there was a better way to travel between realms.

Killian looked around, wondering where exactly he’d landed this time. Portals between realms were fickle things. One was capable of directing them to a particular realm, even a general area within a realm. One was not, however, capable of directing a portal to an exact location.

Seeing nothing but forest all around him, Killian simply began walking. He hoped the portal hadn’t taken him too far from his apartment, but there was no way to know for sure.

At any rate, the walk would do him good. He knew what he wanted--Emma. He wanted a life with her, years, decades living at her side, loving her. He wanted that wee son he’d seen in his vision, perhaps other sons and daughters. And aye, he wanted to persuade her to believe, to return with him to their native land and defeat the Dark One once and for all, but in the future he would be more judicious in the way he dealt with the subject. In retrospect, it was probably unwise the way he threw it all at her at once. It was more than anyone could have accepted.

Aye, he knew what he wanted, but how to get it was far more of an issue. There was no doubt they’d ended things on bad terms. She’d thought he was lying to her outrageously to drive her away. She’d thought he was merely playing with her.

The anger in her eyes as she left had wounded him, but far, far worse was the pain behind the anger. It tore at his heart to think of all of the bloody fools who had mistreated her, taken her for granted, disappointed her. That she thought he was among their number was perhaps understandable, but it was also agonizing. She deserved to be loved, cherished, adored, not because she was the Princess of Misthaven, but because of the kind, loving, passionate, determined woman she was.

But in order to treat her that way--and show her just how much she deserved such treatment--he had to find her first, and once he’d accomplished that, he had to convince her to give him another chance, to trust him.

Killian feared it would be quite the formidable task.

Finally finding a break in the forest, Killian stepped out into the clearing and smiled. He recognized the stretch of road he’d found. It was, in fact, the very same stretch of road he’d found upon his first entrance into this land. Not five feet away was the spot Mr. Smee had almost hit him with his automobile. He had no more than two or three miles to travel before he reached his apartment. Likely he’d reach his destination before the sun had fully set.

Killian trekked on at a leisurely pace, giving himself time to think about the first problem at hand--how to find Emma. He’d need the help of someone who knew this land better than he did. Perhaps he’d contact Mr. Smee tonight. He’d been quite helpful in the past. Maybe he’d contact the bail bonds company for which Swan worked. 

As his mind churned out ideas, ways to tackle his most pressing problems, the walk went by quickly, and before he knew it, he’d reached his apartment complex. 

The first thing Killian noticed upon opening his door was the fact that his lights were on. The second was a mug half filled with cocoa on the counter.

He was not alone.

“Hello?” he called out, hands balling into fists, prepared for the fight that would ensue should the intruder have malintent. “Who’s here, and what are you doing in my bloody apartment?”

There was a flurry of activity from the lofted bedroom above, and then suddenly she was there at the top of the stairs. She looked like an angel with her soft curls falling down her back onto her white sweater. 

“Swan!” he breathed, heart leaping and tears coming to his eyes.

She stood still at the top of the stairs for a moment, but then suddenly she smiled, rushing into his open arms.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Three days._

It had been three days since Emma’s fight with Killian, and in that time he’d yet to return home.

At first Emma thought Killian simply needed space, a chance to be alone and process all that had happened between them, but as the hours and then the days ticked by, she rapidly became more and more concerned.

Not only had Killian never returned to their apartment, he’d never even returned to work. She’d checked with the harbormaster on the second day of Killian’s absence, and even the grizzled old man had seemed concerned when she told him she hadn’t seen him in days.

No matter what had happened between Emma and him, Killian would never just fail to show up at work. He was far too conscientious for that. 

What if something had happened to him? What if he’d been so upset about their fight he'd been reckless, and his inattention had resulted in injury...or worse? What if he was lying dead in some ditch somewhere and no one had found him? 

With every terrible scenario Emma imagined, her fear and nearly crippling anxiety increased. Oh God, what if he died and the last thing he remembered of her was that fight? What if he died thinking she hated him and never wanted to see him again?

Emma sat down on her bed in the loft, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. No matter what had happened or where he was, she wouldn’t be of any use to him if she gave in to panic.

But it was so hard to keep that panic at bay! She’d hardly just sat idly at home waiting for his return. She’d already done everything she could think of to find him. She’d called Smee, asked him to keep an eye out. She’d used some of her coworkers and connections at work. In a desperate moment, she’d even called the nearby hospitals to see if a John Doe matching Killian’s description had been brought in.

Nothing.

It was as though he’d disappeared off the face of the planet. What the hell could have happened to him?

She pulled on her favorite white sweater in preparation to hit the pavement once again tonight. It was a chilly evening, and she knew she would need all the warmth she could get.

Emma had just finished tying the laces on her boots when she heard a key in the lock.

“God please let it be him,” she murmured, “please, please let it be him.”

“Hello? Who’s here, and what are you doing in my bloody apartment?”

Emma jumped to her feet and rushed to the top of the stairs as tears of relief rushed to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. It was him! He was finally back! She paused for a moment to take him in as he looked up at her in awe, a hushed “Swan!” issuing from his lips, and then she was running down the stairs, propelling herself into his arms. 

She could no more keep her tears at bay than she could stop the soft pitter-patter of the rain that had only just begun to hit the window. He was back! He was alive! By all appearances he was well!

Emma clung to him so tightly he was probably finding it hard to breath, but far from complaining, he seemed to hold her just as tightly. Her tears soaked his jacket, and his fell on her head. She had a thousand questions about where he’d been, what he’d done, whether he’d forgive her for their last fight, but for long moments, none of it mattered. All that mattered was that he was back and in her arms.

She loved him. Gods how she loved him! It didn’t matter what insane crap they had to work through, she knew one thing for sure: she would never leave him again. Never.

Finally, after long moments, they pulled away far enough to look at each other.

“Emma, you’re here,” he said softly, reverently, bringing up one hand to hook a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face. “I thought you’d be gone. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“I’m sorry Killian!” she said, feeling another rush of tears. “I...I freaked out and ran. It’s what I do, but it took me only a few hours to I realize I missed you. I’m sorry!”

He smiled tenderly at her as he continued caressing her face. “You’ve nothing to apologize for Swan. I know how my revelation must have sounded to you. Your concern was justified.”

Emma frowned at his mention of his “revelation”. What he’d told her...it was freaking crazy. No way it could be true.

Killian seemed to notice her change in demeanor. “You still don’t believe me?”

Her troubled eyes sought his. “How can I Killian? Elves, magic, other realms? It’s nonsense, fairy tales. How could I possibly believe that?”

Killian sighed, dropping his eyes for a moment, before looking back at her. “Surely you can see I’m not lying to you, Emma.”

Her inner lie detector remained resolutely silent, but still… “Just because you believe something, doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Just because you don’t understand something, doesn’t mean it’s false,” he countered.

She was silent for a moment, her unease increasing with the return to the topic that had led to their fight in the first place. Finally she cupped his face in her hands, bringing his forehead down to rest against hers. “Can we just drop it for now?” she asked. “It’s just...it’s just too much for me. I can’t believe like you want me to, but I don’t want to fight again.”

It took him a long time to answer. She could feel the tension in him, and for a moment, she feared he’d insist on continuing with this insane conversation, but finally he relaxed, smiling gently at her. “As you wish, love.”

_Love_

She knew it was an everyday figure of speech for him, but she could sense when he said it to her, it was something more. He meant it.

And suddenly Emma wanted to say it to him again, wanted to never stop saying it, wanted to never stop this thing that was between them.

“I love you,” she said.

His smile grew. “Aye, just as I love you, my Swan.”

“No,” She said, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “I mean I really, really love you. This feeling...it’s so big, so all encompassing. I’ve never imagined something like this before.”

She saw something leap in his eyes. Hope? Joy? Understanding? 

“I think perhaps the phrase you’re looking for is True Love,” he said. In the way he said it, she knew it was a big, monumental thing to him.

“Yeah, true love,” she answered. “I truly love you.”

“Swan, you’ve no idea how beautiful those words sound,” he said, pulling her into his arms once again. “I truly love you too.”

Suddenly Emma knew what she had to do. It was insane, it was too soon, it was...well, it was one of the last things she’d ever expect herself to do, but it was _right_.

Emma stepped back, taking both of his hands in hers. “Killian, I know this is crazy. I mean we’ve only known each other a few months, and we just had a fight that nearly ended our relationship, but I know I want to be with you. Forever. Look, if this is too sudden or too soon or whatever, I get it, and you don’t have to feel like you have to answer the way I want. I mean, obviously. It’s your choice as much as it’s mine, and I don’t want to, you know, make presumptions--”

“Yes,” he said firmly, a look of such love and _hope_ on his face, it made the tears rush to her eyes for what felt like the millionth time that day.

Emma laughed. “I haven’t even asked you a question yet.”

“I don’t care,” he said, squeezing her hands, “whatever the question is; my answer’s yes.”

She gave him a mock frown. “Nuh-uh, buddy. That’s not the way this works. You’ve gotta let me ask the question before you give me an answer.”

He laughed. “Very well, Swan, get on with the asking, then.”

Emma took a deep breath, waiting for the fear to come. This was a big step she was taking, after all, a _really_ big step. But the fear never came, only a sense that this was the best, most _right_ thing she’d ever done.

“Killian, will you marry me?”

A tear fell from his eye as his smile turned infinitely tender.

“Aye, my love,” he said. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Her joy and relief swelled, and the smile on her face was so wide it hurt the corners of her mouth. “Good.”

He waited a second, and then his grin became mischievous. “Now, may I kiss my fiancee already?”

“What do you think?” she asked.

Killian surged forward, taking her lips in what Emma could only call an epic kiss. It was magical, beautiful, electric.

And the strangest thing happened as soon as their lips connected. Emma felt this massive surge of energy, like a shockwave or something, starting at their joined lips and rapidly expanding in every direction. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

“What was that?” Emma asked as they finally pulled away.

He looked wrecked, awed, so happy he was near to exploding with it. “That, my darling Swan, was True Love.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Misthaven, present day_

Storybrooke was still, silent, the same as it ever was, day in and day out. The residents, cursed as they were, found nothing odd or unusual about this. They simply went about their day as always.

Suddenly a shockwave, tinged with all the colors of the rainbow spread throughout the town, and everyone it hit suddenly gasped, eyes truly opened for the first time in two decades.

In Granny’s diner, Snow White, who for decades had believed herself to be Mary Margaret Blanchard, leapt to her feet and rushed out the door, knowing only one thing: She had to find David.

There he was, running toward her just as quickly. They met in the middle of the main street of town, clasped in each other's arms, and the kiss that followed was nothing short of cataclysmic. When they finally pulled apart, David had tears in his eyes.

“She did it, Snow,” he breathed. “She broke the curse.”

_Notes:_

_\--Sorry again for the long delay between chapters, but at least I gave you some significant good moments to make up for it, right?_

_\--I know better than to make promises, but I’m hoping to get into a better writing routine starting this week! My story for CSSNS 2020 drops this week, so now I have two WIPs to try my best not to get hopelessly behind on. If all goes well, I’ll write for an hour every Monday, Wednesday and Friday on this story, and every Tuesday and Thursday on the new one. (The new story is titled “More Than All the Jewels in the Realm”, and is kind of a time travel, soul mates story if you want to check it out.)_

_\--So the Merry Men in my story are obviously my version of hobbits. As Liam mentioned, they aren’t small like hobbits though. You should imagine them as they appear in canon. Friar Tuck borrows Bilbo’s speech from the very beginning of the LOTR books/movies (how could I pass up the “I know half as many of you….” line? It’s classic! Lol.), but that’s as far as the correlation goes with this story. Friar Tuck is essentially like any random hobbit of the Shire in LOTR._

_\--This story is obviously inspired by OUAT, but it’s lore is not completely the same. Emma was able to break the curse before her 28th birthday (she’s 20 or 21 in this story). It’s the defeat of Rumple that’s prophesied for her 28th birthday._

_\--Up next: the conclusion of the flashbacks (although the story as a whole still has a good 8 or 9 chapters left). Rumple casts the curse--after having to pay a huge price--and David sends newborn Emma through the portal. In Misthaven at the present time, the elves, now awake from the curse, have to figure out their next move. Back in the Land Without Magic, Emma and Killian get to live a little domestic bliss. They’ve earned it, wouldn’t you say?_


	13. Not All That is Over is Past

**Chapter 12 (Not All That is Over is Past)**

_Enchanted Forest, 21 years ago_

What was left of Rumplestiltskin’s shrivelled heart plummeted as he looked down at the bubbling cauldron before him in his prison cell. All was ready; all was prepared. The culmination of months of work was about to take place. In a matter of moments, he would enact the dark curse that would decimate Misthaven and bring him one step closer to his ultimate goal of freedom and absolute power.

And yet, after what he’d learned yesterday, it was hard to be in a celebratory mood. As he’d often remarked, all magic comes with a price, and the price for this one would nearly bring him to his knees.

“Papa?” Bae said tentatively from his place in the corner of the cell. “Is it ready? Is it time to cast the curse?”

Rumple closed his eyes and hardened his heart. After all, it was Bae’s fault he even had to cast the curse at all. If his idiot son had managed to reign in his hormones, if he’d refrained from attempting to molest the queen of Camelot, Rumple would already have the sword in his possession and this sacrifice wouldn’t have been necessary.

Considered in that light, what was about to happen was Bae’s own fault.

“Aye son,” Rumple said, glancing down at the scroll containing the spell he would need to read once the last ingredient was added.

_The last ingredient_.

For months Rumple had struggled to learn the identity of that ingredient. Everyone knew it was necessary, but no one knew what it was. Rumple was nearing the point of giving up in defeat when Cora finally came through with malevolent glee.

She would pay dearly for that glee. Once he was finally free, killing the sorceress would be his first act as a free man.

“I believe thanks are in order,” she’d said yesterday after poofing herself to the bars of his prison.

“Is that so, Dearie?” he’d asked with a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “And for what do you wish to thank me?”

She’d laughed, a nasty, grating sound. “Oh it’s not _you_ who are owed the thanks; it’s I.”

It had been a long day, a long day filled with no answers and his son prattling on like an imbecile. Rumple was in no mood to humor Cora.

“If you’ve something to say, say it,” he’d growled. “If not, leave before I make you wish you’d never been born.”

She laughed again before pasting on an insincere look of disappointment and shaking her head. “Temper, temper. Is that any way to behave toward the woman who can give you the information you’ve sought for months?”

That got Rumple’s attention. Perhaps tonight would not be a lost cause after all.

“Well?” he gritted out.

“The final ingredient of your Dark Curse, Rumple is…” she said, drawing out the sentence, making him wait.

“Is _what_?” he nearly shouted.

“The heart of the thing you love the most,” she said with a wide, malevolent smile.

The blood drained from Rumple’s scaly face. _The thing he loved the most_. There was only one person he loved in all the realms, only one person who’d qualify.

He turned, looking with agony at his son who was sleeping on the small cot on the far end of the cell.

“My son?” Rumple whispered past a tight throat. “I have to sacrifice my son?”

Cora laughed again. “Come now, Dark One, you had to know there would be a price--and for a curse this significant, the price had to be steep.”

He’d spent the rest of the night wrestling with the decision that lay before him. Was this really a price he was willing to pay? Perhaps it was time to search out a new plan.

But the more he thought about the situation, the more he knew what he had to do. He’d come too far, worked too hard to give it all up now out of nothing more than sentimentality. Great power came at great sacrifice, and the reward--ruling all of the Enchanted Forest--was well worth the cost of his worthless son’s life.

And so first thing in the morning, before he had time to change his mind, Rumple conjured his cauldron and the fire beneath, retrieved the ingredients he’d secreted away from the prying eyes of the guards, and set about putting his plan into motion.

Bae stepped up to the cauldron, looking into the purple, smoky depths curiously. “Looks the same as every other time you tried to cast it,” he said. “What makes you think it’ll work this time?”

Rumple closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The moment was upon him; there was no sense in drawing it out.

“I know it will work this time,” Rumple said, “because of you.”

Bae’s brow furrowed, just before Rumple plunged his hand into the depths of his chest and pulled out his beating heart.

Bae cried out in pain. “Papa? What are you doing.”

“Only what I must, son,” Rumple said, focusing on the red heart, liberally speckled with black, in his hand rather than on his son’s betrayed face. “You’re the thing I love the most.”

Ignoring the cries of pain, of betrayal behind him, Rumple turned toward the cauldron, squeezed the heart into dust, and poured it into the bubbling brew. A moment later, the incantation followed the heart, and then Rumple waited.

The effect was nearly instantaneous. The smoke within the cauldron plumed out, growing bigger and bigger until it filled the entire cell and then moved out to cover the entire land.

He’d done it. He’d cast the Dark Curse, and it was only a matter of time until everything he’d ever wanted was his.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“No! David, we can’t!” Snow said, tears filling her eyes and panic filling her heart. “We _can’t_ send our newborn daughter to a strange land alone! I _have _to go with her!”

David held baby Emma to his chest as his own tears flowed. “I hate it every bit as much as you do, Snow, but we have no time and no choice.”

“But she’s helpless! She’s not even a day old!” Snow insisted. “What if we send her through to somewhere so remote no one finds her? What if she dies of neglect--or worse, what if a wild animal finds her? David you can’t ask this of me! You can’t ask a mother to abandon her child!”

Snow saw the agony on her husband’s face, knew he felt what she felt, knew he wasn’t the one she should be yelling at, but he was the only one available at the moment.

David gently laid Emma back in her bassinet and sat on the bed, taking Snow into his arms. “Believe me, Snow. Everything within me is screaming at me to hold our daughter close and fight to the death _anyone_ who tries to take her from me. If there was any other way, _any _ other way, I’d do it, even if it killed me, but the curse will be here within minutes, and if we don’t send Emma through the portal before then we’re all lost. _All _of us--including Emma.”

Snow sobbed into the fabric of his blousy cotton shirt. She knew in her head that he was right, but how could she do this? It was agony beyond anything she’d ever felt--save perhaps for the moment she thought David had succumbed to his wounds just before they married.

“Will she be alright?” Snow asked. “Tell me the truth, David, will she make it?”

He took in a deep breath and then sat back and looked at her with a sad smile. “I have to have faith that she will. She’s the daughter of the queen of Misthaven; she’s made of strong stuff. I have to have faith that she will find people to care for her in the Land Without Magic, and I have to have faith that when the time is right, Killian Jones will find her and bring her back to us.”

Snow sat up straight and wiped her eyes. “Please, give me a moment to say goodbye to our daughter before you take her.”

“Of course.”

David scooped Emma up and placed her in Snow’s waiting arms. She began crying in earnest, barely able to get the words out past her sobs. “Emma, know that I love you, more than anything in this world or any other, and I _will _see you again. I don’t know what this curse will mean for me, but I have no doubt some part of me will remember you and think of you every day that you’re gone. Be my brave strong girl until I see you again.”

With a quick kiss to Emma’s forehead, Snow handed her gently to Charming. She was able to hold it together only long enough for her family to leave the room before the full wave of her grief washed over her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Merlin looked out the great hall window, a troubled expression on his face. He knew precisely how difficult it would be for Snow and David to send their daughter through the portal, and he sympathized with their plight, but the cloud of purple smoke, periodically lit with bolts of lightning, was now visible along the horizon. They had less than five minutes before the curse hit and their opportunity to send the newborn princess through the portal disappeared.

Just as he was on the point of poofing himself to the King and Queen’s chamber to hurry them along, David burst through the great hall doors, a sleeping newborn Emma in his arms.

“Come, we must prepare her for the journey!” Merlin called as David came to stand before him.

“Prepare her for the journey?” David asked, “what does that mean?”

“Bring her to me,” Merlin continued, “show me her arm.”

As he said this, Merlin pulled out the Dark One dagger, and David’s eyes widened. He took a step back, hugging his baby closer to him.

“If you think for a moment I’m going to let you do _anything_ to my daughter with that dagger, you’re insane!”

Merlin could almost feel the pain and anger radiating off of David, and he took pity on him, deliberately placing the dagger on the table and raising his hands before him.

“No, Your Highness,” he said in a gentle, soothing tone, “the last thing I would ever want to do is harm your daughter with this or any other weapon, but with your wife unable to accompany her, we do have a bit of a logistical problem.”

“And that is?” David asked.

“It’s of paramount importance that the dagger remain safe, that it not be lost or fall into the wrong hands,” Merlin said. “Sending it through with a newborn baby makes it virtually impossible to ensure that.”

“So what’s your plan?”

“The only way I can ensure Emma can keep this dagger safe,” Merlin said, “is to make it a part of her, so to speak. I plan to transfigure the dagger into a tattoo on her tiny wrist. I thought to make it a buttercup, just like the flowers upon your family crest.”

David smiled. “It would be as though she had a tiny bit of us with her at all times.”

“Precisely.”

Stepping forward, and gently pulling Emma’s tiny, newborn arm from her swaddle, David held out the baby. With a quick wave of Merlin’s hand, the dagger was enveloped in light. Suddenly it disappeared in a second burst of light. When the light dimmed, a tiny, perfect outline of a buttercup graced Princess Emma’s wrist.

It was done. All the preparations had been made. There was nothing left but to send her through the portal and pray that all would be well.

“Please, Merlin,” the agonized father gritted out, “tell me she’ll survive this; tell me she’ll be happy in this new world.”

Merlin turned away, leaning against the window sill and looking out. The future he saw for this little one was bleak--at least until they neared the time of her return, but he hadn’t the heart to tell David all that he saw. Instead, he spoke carefully. “I assure you, Your Majesty, your daughter will survive. She is strong, a fighter, and she will have more than enough courage to make it through. And yes. I do see times of great happiness for her; times of exquisite bliss.” 

That seemed to ameliorate the worst of the king’s fear. Tears filling his eyes, David bent down and kissed his baby’s downy head. “Your papa loves you, Emma. Always.”

With a deep breath, David placed Emma in the wardrobe Merlin had enchanted as a conduit for the portal he’d created, and with that, the young princess was gone.

It was not a minute too soon. Only moments after David opened the wardrobe door to ensure his daughter had truly gone through, the castle windows shattered with a thunderous crash and the purple smoke filled the room, overtaking everyone inside.

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_Land Without Magic, present day_

They married one week later in a simple justice of the peace ceremony. Killian had balked at the simple affair at first, arguing that Emma deserved a big white wedding with the dress and the flowers and the lavish reception, but she’d been insistent.

“Killian, big weddings are for people with lots of family and friends,” she’d said, her tone matter of fact, “and I have neither. Do you?”

A part of him wanted to contradict her, remind her she had parents and an entire kingdom who loved her back in the Enchanted forest, tell her he had a brother there as well, but he held his tongue. They’d only just reconciled after a parting that had been sheer torture. He couldn’t face the possibility of losing her again.

And so he’d told himself there would be time to get her to believe later.

“No, love. I suppose you’re correct,” he’d said a bit morosely. “Perhaps a justice of the peace wedding is best after all.”

“Killian,” she’d said, putting her hands on his cheeks and turning him to face her. “Are you okay with this? I mean really? This isn’t _my_ wedding; it’s _our_ wedding. It should be the way we both want it. If you really want to do the whole big wedding thing, I could do that. It just seems kind of depressing. Plus I really want to get married. Like now. I don’t want to wait the months it would take us to plan a big ceremony.”

Killian had leaned down, kissing her softly, sweetly, vowing to himself that he’d give her that big wedding full of family and friends later, after the Dark One was defeated and they were able to truly live their happily ever after. For now a justice of the peace ceremony would do.

“I want that as well,” he said after pulling back. “You’ve convinced me. A quick wedding it is.”

The next week had been a flurry of activity, preparing for the wedding. Even with such a simple ceremony, there was much to prepare. But prepare they had, and one week to the day after Emma’s proposal, they’d stood hand in hand in the courthouse before the justice of the peace. With Smee at his side as his best man and Cleo at hers as her maid of honor, they’d spoken the vows that would bind them together for as long as they both should live.

Which he fervently hoped would be a long, long time.

After the ceremony, Smee and Cleo had treated them to a meal at a fancy restaurant, and then had left them to enjoy their wedding night.

And so here they were, back at their apartment as the last rays of the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

Killian looked at Emma as she stood in front of him. She was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. She’d foregone a veil, her hair pulled up at the sides and falling in soft curls down her back. She wore a simple, but elegant white sundress with wide cotton straps. It was gathered just below the bust but then flowed freely to her ankles.

A rosy hue tinted her cheeks as she smiled shyly at him.

“So….here we are,” she said with a nervous little laugh.

“Indeed,” he said, smiling back.

She took a deep breath, stepping into his embrace, her hands at his shoulders and his at her waist. “Okay, this is stupid, but I’m kind of nervous now that the moment is here.”

He kissed her gently, little more than a whisper of his lips against hers. “Not stupid at all, my love. It’s a big moment. For both of us.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve never done this before,” she said. “Just that I’ve never done _this_ before. You know, with someone I genuinely cared for, with someone I love. It _means_ more, you know?”

He smiled tenderly, cupping her cheek and letting his fingers slide through her silky hair before kissing her again, longer this time, but with no less tenderness. “Aye. I know precisely what you mean, but you’ve no need for nerves, Swan. We’ve our whole lives before us. You needn’t feel we must do anything you aren’t ready for.”

She laughed before pulling him by the lapels and kissing him with all the pent up passion of the months they’d been together yet refrained from making love. He groaned as her mouth parted below his and her tongue sought access to his own. It was access he readily granted, as he felt the heat, the desire mount, as his body prepared to make her his in the most primal sense.

They were both panting when they pulled back. Emma rested her forehead against his, smiling broadly. “I may be nervous, Killian, but there is not a cell in my body that wants to stop what we’re about to do.”

He grinned wickedly, before pouncing, matching her last kiss with one of his own, passionate enough to make his toes curl. For long moments they continued, one kiss leading right into the next, some fiery, others slow, thorough, drugging, all of them undergirded with a deep, true love.

Slowly, the kisses turned to caresses as he moved her resolutely from the entryway toward his bed. Sliding the straps of her dress from her shoulders, he kissed down the column of her neck as she arched to give him better access, the sounds coming from her delectable lips enough to drive him nearly wild with need.

But this would be no quick coupling; he was determined to take his time, worship her body as she deserved, and so he’d taken a deep ragged breath, stepping back as the dress slid from her body and pooled at her feet.

He felt his heart lurch and then begin to pound as he saw what lay beneath. She wore a lacy, translucent negligee over tiny panties, the entire ensemble leaving very little to the imagination. Killian let his fingers gently trail from her collar bone down her barely covered body, stopping to cup her breasts and running his thumbs over their stiffened, lace-covered peaks.

“You are exquisite,” he breathed, gently laying her on his bed--_their_ bed--and retracing the path his fingers took with his mouth.

It was a long glorious night in which they gave everything within themselves to each other, nothing held back, nothing restrained. As Killian drifted off to sleep much later, body deliciously spent and Emma sleeping in his arms, his last thought was that this was perfect, incandescent happiness, and he’d be able to experience it for the rest of his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Six Weeks Later_

Emma stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand, her stomach roiling even more than it had been every morning for the last two weeks.

_Pregnant_._ She was pregnant!_

How could she be pregnant already? They’d been married for less than two months. Granted, they’d spent more than their fair share of nights cocooned in their bed doing so much more than sleeping, and granted they hadn’t been overly careful, but still!

They’d never even talked about kids. She didn’t even know if Killian wanted kids. What if he didn’t? What if she told him and he walked out?

Emma leaned back against the bathtub, bringing her knees up as she began to tremble. Her rational side told her that wouldn’t happen. Killian loved her; he’d come back for her; he would do _anything _for her. He wouldn’t leave her no matter what. And even if he didn’t want a kid, he was too good, too honorable a man to leave his own child and that child’s mother.

But more often than she’d like, that rational side was overwhelmed and overrun by the fear and dread bred into her from the time she was old enough to understand. Fear that she’d be once again abandoned.

If Killian left her now, now that she knew what it was like to be his wife, to be united to him in every possible way, she was sure it would kill her.

Tears began to flow hot and fast down her face as she hugged her knees to herself and began gently rocking. She had to tell him; she knew she did. There was only so long she could hide this pregnancy, and he was a perceptive man. Yes, she had to tell him, but she didn’t know how; she didn’t know how she’d manage to force the words past her tight throat.

“Swan, I’m home, love,” came his call from the main room just after the sound of the door firmly closing. “I know you’ve been feeling a bit poorly lately, so I stopped by the diner for your favorite grilled cheese sandwich.”

_Grilled cheese_.

The smell of the fried food she usually loved made her stomach roll yet again and she was afraid she’d be sick. Great! Her first pregnancy food aversion was to her favorite food in the word. Just...great.

She began crying in earnest, damn her stupid hormones! She had to get it together before Killian found her. She knew she had to tell him about everything, but she wasn’t ready yet; not by a long shot. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her hands over her face to get rid of the sign of her tears and then got carefully to her feet.

“Love? Where are you? I saw the bug on the street, so I know you’re…”

Too late. By the look on his face when he saw her, it was clear he wasn’t at all fooled by her exaggerated smile at seeing him.

“Emma!” he said, rushing to her and taking her in his arms just as the next bout of tears she couldn’t control began to flow. “What’s happened? Are you hurt?”

She simply shook her head clinging to him as he scooped her up and carried her from their bathroom over to their bed. He sat her down and then joined her, holding her to him as she tried desperately to get ahold of herself.

“N-no,” she said finally, “nothing’s wrong.”

“Emma, something must be,” Killian insisted. “Love you’re distraught. Please let me in; please let me help you!”

There was nothing for it. She knew her husband; knew he wouldn’t let it go until she told him what was bothering her. Ready or not, it was time to tell him.

“It’s--this,” Emma said, showing him the pregnancy test she’d kept clutched in her hand.

He peered at it for several moments, head cocked and brow furrowed. “Forgive me love, you’ll have to be a bit more specific. I’m afraid I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s--it’s,” she started, heart feeling like it could pound out of her chest. “Well, I was late, and I’m never late; every 28 days like clockwork. Then I started getting nauseous and lightheaded, and we haven’t been all that careful and...and... Well, I decided to take a pregnancy test.”

She cast an apprehensive glance at him as he looked down at the test once more. His eyes widened the moment he saw the word pregnant and realized just what it meant.

She began trembling again as she waited for his reaction. 

She didn’t have to wait long. Turning to face her fully, he smiled brighter than she’d ever seen him smile as the tears came to his eyes. Reaching down, he placed an infinitely tender hand over her belly. “You’re with child? Truly?”

She nodded her head, and he crushed her to him, hugging her tight, burying his face in the crook of her neck, and for the first time since getting the news, Emma let herself feel hope...and joy. “Yeah, I’m gonna have a baby. _We’re _going to have a baby.”

He hugged her again, but after a moment he pulled back, looking at her with concern. “But you were distraught. Swan are you not pleased? Do you not want our baby?”

She rushed to reassure him now that her fears were quelled. “That’s not it at all, Killian!” she said. “Of course I want our baby. I love our child already. I--I just was afraid maybe you wouldn’t want it.”

“Swan,” he said, with a frown, “how could you think such a thing? The thought of having a baby with you fills me with joy. Surely you didn’t think--”

“I know! It’s stupid!” Emma cried. “I just--I’m not used to people putting me first. I didn’t really think you’d be upset, but part of me will probably always be that lonely abandoned little girl.”

He gathered her into his lap, holding her close and letting her cry into the fabric of his shirt. “Well, my love, you’d best get used to being put first, because you are my first and only priority, you and the little one.” He placed his hand over hers on her belly. “I’d rather cut off my arm than leave either of you. Ever.”

Emma brought his lips down to meet hers. “I love you,” she whispered, after which there were no more words spoken for quite some time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Henry Liam Jones was born seven and a half months later on May 30 at 8:15 in the morning. Weighing in at seven pounds, ten ounces, he was a strapping young lad, and in Killian’s opinion, the most beautiful baby ever to be born.

Killian had worried himself to distraction as Emma labored for hours, struggling to give birth. His mind played out scenario after scenario of things going wrong, of one or both of the people he loved most in the world being hurt--or even killed, but Emma had been so brave and so strong, showing nothing but steely grit and determination as she endured the pain and discomfort of childbirth.

And then when their little lad was finally born and placed on his mother’s chest, the smile on her face was bright enough to light the entire city. They were a family, and Killian didn’t think it was possible for him to feel even a drop more happiness.

This, this right here was a perfect moment.

Two hours later, Killian sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair, his son cradled in his arms as his wife slept beside him, the smile still gracing her face. Henry was perfect, absolutely perfect, and Killian vowed to himself that he would always protect the little lad, always love him, always care for him.

“Congratulations, Dad,” a nurse said as she came in to check on them. “He’s a beautiful little elf, isn’t he?”

Killian’s eyes widened as he looked up at her. How did she know? How could she possibly know? “What did you say?”

She looked chagrined at his reaction. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean anything,” she said. “It’s just that his little ears point just a bit like a wee, tiny elf, if such creatures were real.”

Killian forced a chuckle. “Thank’s love. His mother and I love him to distraction already.”

She smiled gently. “I can see that, and I have a sense for these things. You and your wife are going to be wonderful parents.”

_Notes:_

_\--I have to once again apologize for the unconscionably long delay in updates. My Captain Swan Supernatural Summer story for this year dropped about a month ago, (It’s called More Than All the Jewels in the Realm by the way if you want to check it out. It’s a time travel story.) and for some time the muse seemed to _only_ want to work on that fic. This past week, however, I managed to follow the writing schedule I set out for myself (work on this fic three days per week and More than All the Jewels in the Realm two days), so fingers crossed I can keep that up and start bringing you more regular updates._

_\--*waves* Bye, bye Neal! I won’t miss you!_

_\--With Emma being sent through the portal and the curse hitting Misthaven, the flashback portion of this story comes to a close. Going forward, we’ll get scenes in both present day Misthaven and present day Land Without Magic, but you’re now all caught up to speed on everything that happened in the past._

_\--I tried to keep the present section in the bounds of this story’s T rating, although I did try to push the boundaries a little with the wedding night._

_\--Check out the links here if you want to see my inspiration for Emma's wedding dress and lingerie: _

_ \--[](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ZefD6RMDoZEzAfjlO3ShTJDA9Dx0QV-S/view?usp=sharing%20%20%C2%A0%20%C2%A0%20%C2%A0%20%C2%A0%20--Lingerie:)_

_ \--_ [lingerie](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Za5LB3UHP7uXoxgaZN-GddrQXggowIjA/view?usp=sharing)

_\--Up next: we get a glimpse of what the elves of Misthaven are doing now that the curse is broken. In the present day, seven years have past since Henry was born--happy, fluffy, domestic years for the Joneses. Killian hasn’t found a way to convince Emma of the truth of her birth and her destiny, but he’s running out of time. Her twenty-eighth birthday is in less than a week. Henry gets an unexpected visitor--Merlin. Something happens that Emma cannot explain, and young Henry makes a decision that he hopes will force his mom to believe once and for all--a decision that could have very dangerous consequences._


End file.
